Roller Coaster
by turntoPaige394
Summary: The moonlight left glittering diamonds in her hair and cast her dark skin in an almost ethereal glow, her warm cinnamon eyes alight at his expression. He knew now that it would be so easy to give in, to indulge in her with gluttony... but Draco also knew without a doubt that Hermione Granger had the potential to be his undoing. And he wasn't sure he wanted to be undone just yet.
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: J.K. Rowling is the sole owner of HP. I'm just playing around.**

***TW: references to rape throughout; nothing graphic but please proceed with caution.***

* * *

Draco Malfoy was drowning.

Well, perhaps not literally but figuratively- he was about as fucked as one person could get and it was all the same to him.

His family's assets had been seized, his mother had been stripped of her wand and confined to the crumbling Manor, and his father had been sentenced to a life sentence in Azkaban… with Draco in a cozy little 6x8 cold stone cell just down the hall.

The Ministry hadn't cared that he was only 16 when he'd been forced - under threat of a seriously fucked up death - to take the Mark. They didn't care that his mother had saved Harry Potter's life during the Final Battle. They didn't care that Draco had refused to identify the Golden Trio that fateful night at the Manor. And they certainly didn't care that Lucius Malfoy had actually been under the Imperious curse for many, many years. Oh sure, there was no denying that he was and always had been a hateful, spiteful, prejudiced bigot - but simpering after Voldemort during the second war had _not_ been his choice. Nope, that was all thanks to some clever maneuvering by the Lestranges.

No one cared.

The only thing that mattered was the six little letters following his given name: M-a-l-f-o-y. That was all it took to condemn them. That was all it took for everyone in the entire Wizarding World to turn their backs on them, circumstanced be damned.

Draco curled into a tight ball on the hard floor - because apparently even prisoners weren't worthy of a fucking cot - and squeezed his eyes tightly against the wave of icy hopelessness that washed over him as they Dementors glided silently by for their evening check. His fingers spasmed against the cold and his stomach ached with hunger. If the guards ever fed them more than twice a week, it was a miracle. Though, he wouldn't exactly consider moldy bread and nearly rotten fruit to be worthy of such a divine distinction.

But this was his life now, so after an interminable amount of horror-filled hours, he simply accepted it. Accepted that he would probably never eat anything else until the day he died, accepted that these dank walls would probably be the only thing he ever saw for the rest of his life. Merlin only knew if anyone would ever, _ever_ muster the compassion to let him out of Azkaban.

No, he rather thought not.

Even with them shut, Draco could feel the hot sting of tears behind his lids. How had everything gotten so spectacularly fucked? He pounded one fist against the stone, teeth ground together against the pathetic sobs that were always so close to the surface. His family had been targeted as prime hosts for Voldemort's return because of their wealth and status. How was that fair? His father, while still wary of Muggles and Muggleborns in general when he began schooling at Hogwarts had made it clear that he was not like the rest of the Pureblood aristocracy. In his own cold, aloof way, he had even tried to encourage Draco to branch out to make friends with those in other Houses… though perhaps not in quite so many words.

_"Slytherin is all well and good, Draco," his father had said to the parchment he was reading at his regally carved desk, "but there are other Houses as well. Do not let archaic rivalries cloud your judgement. An open mind is always best in new situations."_

_Eleven year-old Draco had simply rolled his eyes and muttered, "Yes, father," before running off in search of his beloved crup, Onyx._

The memory made him want to vomit. Perhaps if he had paid more attention to his father's words, tried harder to follow his sage advice instead of becoming the epitomical Slytherin Prince and all that entailed…

A guard roughly shoved a bucket into the cell- full of disgusting murky water, no doubt- that caught on the stoned and spilled all over the floor and soaked his ragged prison garb, chilling him to the bone until his perfect teeth chattered. How long would it take until his pristine teeth were completely rotted and black like his Aunt Bella's? How long until his unblemished skin turned that horrific gray color he'd seen on almost all of the other Death Eaters? How long until his muscles atrophied, leaving him nothing more than a ghost of his former self? How long until he finally, mercifully, lost his mind and succumbed to the madness this place was meant for?

Gods, he fucking hoped the madness would set in soon. Maybe then this hellhole would be halfway tolerable.

His stomach grumbled again but Draco knew, if the water had already been delivered, that there would be no food today. He was _starving_, but if there was one thing he'd learned during his imprisonment- it was that the guards were malicious and cruel but not stupid. They fed the prisoners _just enough_ so they wouldn't die.

And the icing on the proverbial shit-cake that was his life? The fucking cells had been charmed so you couldn't kill yourself.

Bloody fucking masochists.

Draco curled in on himself a little tighter, desperate to keep in what little body heat was left.

_This is it, _he thought darkly, and not for the first time. _This is my punishment for being such an insufferable shit my whole life. This is my punishment for every horrible thing I have ever said or done._

Not even his own fuzzy mind argued.

How long had he been in Azkaban? He couldn't honestly say. The prison was charmed to remain eternally dark, so he had no sense of time anymore. It _had_ to be a few years - it felt like fifty had already passed but he wasn't old and decrepit yet so fuck if he knew. Death Eaters weren't allowed visitors so he had no idea how his mother was faring on her own. He knew nothing about what was happening in the outside world. Surprisingly, he still had enough energy to sneer internally. Draco could just bet that wherever they were, the fucking 'Golden Trio' were living it up; drowning in galleons and recognition from their status as war heroes.

Of course, no one ever considered that there were victims and heroes on the opposing side as well.

Draco shivered violently and actually felt his thoughts growing more disjointed and sluggish. His heart was racing, nearly jumping and stuttering in his chest with palpitations, but he didn't care anymore. What did it matter? It certainly wouldn't be the first time he passed out from hunger or exhaustion in this godsforsaken place.

Like everything else, he didn't fight it. He just laid there, curled in a tiny ball against the arctic chill of the prison until he slipped quietly into unconsciousness.

x-x-x

_"For the love of Merlin, _move_! I have a right to see my client and…"_

Draco's entire body felt like a lead weight being dragged from the bottom of the sea. Who was shouting? He much preferred the silent abyss of unconsciousness, thank you very much.

_"Why haven't you done something? Look at him! He looks as if he is knocking on Death's door!"_

Oddly enough, that idea pleased him. Better than rotting away in that fucking cell until there was nothing left of him. _Let me die_, he wanted to say. Give him that, at least. Fuck.

_"Miss… I'm sorry, but it's hospital protocol to only provide the bare minimum of care to Azakaban prisoners, only enough that they can be returned to—"_

_"Absolutely not! This man deserve the same treatment as everyone else and if you refuse to provide it to him, I will take him elsewhere!"_

_"B-but Miss, St. Mungo's has an exclusive contract with Azkaban. Legally, he cannot be taken anywhere else…"_

Gods, these women - for he could indeed discern that they were women - were annoying the fucking daylights out of him. Couldn't he even be allowed to die in peace? Why the fuck had anyone even bothered to bring him to St. Mungo's? Surely the Ministry wouldn't have given a shit if he had died. Quite frankly, the feeling was mutual. He just wanted it to be over already.

From all the cotton there seemed to be stuck in his ears, he heard a door swing open and click shut just as quickly.

_"S-sir, I'm sorry but the prisoner isn't allowed visitors other than his attorney…"_

The accompanying reply was in a deep, somewhat familiar voice, _"Stun her."_

No spell was uttered but he heard a hard _thump_ as something heavy hit the floor,_ "Gladly."_

There was a shuffle of someone moving closer, _"How is he?"_

_"How do you think he is, Blaise? Look at him."_

Blaise? As in, Zabini? His best mate from school? What the bloody hell was he was doing in St. Mungo's? Didn't everyone hate him?

_"They aren't caring for him properly," _his friend sighed. _"What's wrong with him?"_

The other woman, his attorney apparently (and since when did he have one of those?), responded sharply, _"Hypothermia, malnutrition, dehydration. Shall I continue?"_

_"Point taken."_

_"They treat them no better than animals," _she snarled. Her voice was familiar too, especially in anger, but he couldn't place it._"I will see them all hang for this, you mark my words."_

His friend chuckled, _"Knowing you, I don't doubt it for a second. But before you can start plotting their demise, what are we going to do about him?"_

_"I'm going to heal him as best I can, of course."_

There was a long moment of silence, _"You know how to heal?"_

_"You don't spend your life growing up in war and an entire year on the run from Voldemort without learning how to heal people. So yes. I do."_

Granger. Of course his attorney had to be fucking Granger. Didn't he owe her and her idiotic friends enough already? Fucking hell, he'd already had to watch her be tortured on his drawing room floor and watch from far, far away as she and everyone she knew fought in the Final Battle. How much more did the Gods intend to punish him?

Despite his internal war, Draco felt the familiar feel of magic washing over him and tending to his ailments.

_"We're going to have to let them take him back to Azkaban, aren't we?"_

Her voice was soft, _"As much as I hate it, yes. We could easily smuggle him out of here and hide him somewhere where the Aurors would never find him but…"_

_"But we're trying to do this right."_

_"Exactly."_

_Why?_ He wanted to scream. _Why are you wasting your fucking time on me?_

_"I didn't think he'd look like this after only two years."_

Her snarl was back, _"Being treated like an animal will do that."_

_"At least tell me he won't have to suffer in there much longer. For fuck's sake, they won't even let any of us visit him!"_

_"Of course they won't. That is all part of the dehumanizing process."_

_"It... it's not because they think they're dangerous?"_

She snorted, _"Hardly. I've done my research - they employ every possible tactic in order to reduce their most _desirable_ prisoners to mindless animals. It is very much on purpose."_

Draco wanted to be angry, he wanted to shout at her to shut the hell up, to tell her that he was coping with Azkaban just fine, but he found the words wouldn't come. What did it matter if they were just going to send him back there? Let them think whatever about him; everyone else did. He would be dead soon anyway.

_"Is he any better? Did your spells work?"_

_"Let me cast another diagnostic... hmmm, well it looks like I was able to restore the slight atrophy to his muscles and his dehydration is gone. I used a nutritional spell of my own on him and that seems to have abated the malnutrition a little as well. His temperature is already returning to normal, so that's good. I don't think there is anything else— wait... what the hell? That can't be right."_

_"What? What is it?"_

_"I… I don't know. I've healed a lot of injuries and ailments before but I don't think I know what this is indicating. Here, come take a look."_

He could feel someone heavy, his friend presumably, sag against the hospital bed, _"Fucking hell. How is it possible that this keeps getting worse?"_

_"You know what this reading means?"_

_"Yeah… I do."_

_"Well? Are you going to enlighten me so I can heal him?"_

Blaise's voice was low and rough, _"I would assume that would be something you'd see in a victim of sexual assault."_

_"He… he was _raped_?"_

_"More than once, if that spell is accurate."_

Draco's muscles stiffened involuntarily. No one was supposed to know about that, especially not his friends and especially not _her_. The starvation, the beatings, the verbal abuse - all of it was fine but not _that_. That was one burden he fully intended to bear on his own. Not that he had been all that surprised when it had happened, mind you. Not looking like he did in a prison full of guards that sometimes seemed worse than the prisoners.

But it was still humiliating and now they knew.

_"And going by his reaction just now, I'd wager that even if he can't move, he can hear us."_

Another weight leaned against the other side of his bed, her voice shaky, _"Is he right? Can you hear me, Draco?"_

"Fuck… off… Granger…" He managed through clenched teeth, though no other part of him even so much as twitched. His eyes remained firmly shut. He was still too exhausted to open them.

Blaise chuckled somewhat sadly, _"Yep, that's him."_

She leaned a little closer and he smelled a peculiar mix of roses and apples, _"I'm working as hard as I can to get you and your father out of there, Draco. I'm sorry it's taking so long but I'm trying to do it legally so your family won't have to go into hiding to avoid going back to prison."_

"M-mother…" Draco ground out.

_"She's fine. I keep her updated on my progress with you and your father's case almost every day. I won't tell her about today… I don't want to upset her so please don't worry about that."_

_"Drake," _Blaise cut in, _"we are trying so hard to get you out, man. Hermione managed to get a hearing scheduled for next week. We just need you to hold on a little longer."_

Draco felt the wash of Granger's magic against his final, mortifying injury and lost the will to answer. He didn't care. It didn't matter. They'd never let him out. Never. Never, never, never. He was going to be abused by those guards, raped and starved until near death, until he was old and gray. Well, if he made it that far anyway.

A small hand touched his arm and he involuntarily flinched and the hand fell away, _"I don't want you to go back there. I don't want you to suffer like that anymore but… we just… we don't have a choice. Not if you truly want to have a chance."_

_"She's right, Drake. Merlin knows sending you back to that fucking cesspit makes me want to vomit, but we already have the hearing scheduled. Five days. Can you make it five more days?"_

There was nothing left in him to answer.

_"Draco, please," _Granger pleaded, her voice oddly thick. _"Please. Five more days. Five more days and I swear to you, I won't ever let them send you back there again. I'll make an Unbreakable Vow if that's what it takes for you to believe me."_

_"Hermione… hey, it's okay. Here."_

She sniffed, _"How can we do this, Blaise? How can we send him back there?"_

Why was Granger crying over him? Such a bloody fucking Gryffindor. Always worrying about things, people, that didn't want or need it.

Something in the back of his mind niggled: _but doesn't it feel nice to know someone cares?_

_No_, he sternly told himself, even at the slight tightness in his chest. _No, it did not feel nice_. He did not like feeling pitied. He did not like having his pride battered and bruised, over and over and fucking over again by the same girl who had bested him for years. What next, she'd save his life and free him from Azkaban? Gods, that was all he needed - for her to have one more gods damned thing to hold over his head…

Even though she never really had.

_"We don't have a choice in this. You know we don't. He has to go back. He's made it this long, we just need him to hold out for five more days. It took 2 years to get the Ministry to agree to this, even with everything you've done for the Wizarding World. We can't fuck it up now. We _can't_."_

Her words were slightly garbled, _"They're killing him, Blaise. How can we just—"_

_"I know. And I know you care for… I mean, I get it. But we are so close now. In five days, you will win, and Draco and his father will be free and then…"_

And then what? Even if he and his father were, miraculously, let go, what did he have to return to? A crumbling manor, depressed mother, possibly insane father, and empty vaults? Who would allow him to take his NEWTs? Even so, who would hire him? Who would do business with him? No one. There was nothing left for him outside the walls of Azkaban anymore.

It was insanely difficult to speak, but he forced the words from behind his teeth, "S-stop… doesn't matter…"

_"Gods damn it, Draco Malfoy!" _Blaise snarled, pounding a fist against the bed. _"You don't get to give up! Hermione, Harry, and I have been working our arses off to get you out of there so I'd appreciate it if you'd at least pretend to give a shit!"_

_"Blaise…"_

_"No! No, he doesn't get to just lay down and die. You've run yourself ragged over this, Harry has driven himself to the brink, and I'm just about there myself. We've restored the fucking Manor, we've cared for his fucking mother, and we've secured his fucking money. He doesn't get to just give up when we are so gods damned close to this nightmare being over!"_

What? They… they had done all of that for him? Without even knowing if they'd be successful in freeing him? Granger, Blaise, and _Potter_? What the fuck had happened in the past 2 years? What the hell had he missed?

"W-why…?" Draco rasped.

_"Because we care about you, you fucking prick!"_

_"Blaise, really. That's enough. I think he understands."_

They cared? Why? He had been nothing but horrid to Granger her entire life. In fact, Draco couldn't even recall ever saying a single nice thing to or about her. Even when she was being tortured not six feet away from him, all he did was avert his gaze and barely stifle his nausea. And Potter… he couldn't possibly fathom why _he_ was helping. Was it because he refused to identify them that day at the Manor? More fool him then, because he only did it out of fear.

Blaise moved off the bed, shuffling around something, _"Our time is almost up and the guards will be back soon. I'm going to Obliviate the Healer and then Rennervate her. You have three more minutes, Hermione. I'll meet you in your office tomorrow to make sure we have everything we need." _There was a pause before he spoke again. _"Hang on for us, Drake. Please."_

And the door somewhere to his left opened and clicked shut again.

Her soft voice came from the side of his bed, _"I never should have let them take you there. When you were arrested, I wasn't certified yet. I still had another 6 months of my legal studies before I would be allowed to be in front of the Wizengamot but…" _She shuffled closer. _"Please believe if I had known… if I had truly known what Azkaban was really like, I would have said fuck the formalities and made a thousand illegal portkeys for you. I would have sent you and your parents to the ends of the Earth before I let them take you there. I am so sorry, Draco. I really am. Please forgive my naivety. I didn't know."_

His chest tightened further. Who was this girl? The Granger he remembered, the Granger he grew up with, would never have fought so hard for him. Not after the horrible history they shared. Why was she so different? Why did she sound like she actually gave a shit? It didn't make sense.

_"I know you have had to endure things I cannot even imagine behind those bars, but I can promise you that they won't get away with it. Even if I have to hunt down each of those fucking barbarians myself, they will answer for what they've done to you. The Kiss will look tame compared to what I have in mind for them."_

Draco could scarcely believe what he was hearing. He was hearing it, right? He wasn't just suffering from hallucinations back in his dank, depressing cell? No… no he was most certainly hearing her correctly. Perhaps it was from being so exhausted or hungry or the beginnings of madness, but he couldn't force his thoughts to make sense of it all. Nothing fit. Granger had never been a particularly violent person, minus the one time in third year when she punched him, but now she was threatening painful death on those who had hurt him. What the hell was going on?

"Granger…" He muttered from under the fog. "Why…?"

There was another long moment of silence, _"You mean, you really can't tell? I thought… maybe you could feel it."_

Feel it? Feel what? He somehow managed a tiny shake of his head.

_"After the war, some time after you were arrested, the Ministry went absolutely crazy. The population had plummeted and they knew that a marriage law would spell riots so they turned to more underhanded methods that they hoped would encourage the birthrate."_

His stomach roiled uncomfortably.

_"They… they turned to ancient magic instead. There are some pretty skilled potioneers working for the Ministry and they worked with muggle geneticists to devise a potion that was created with the intention of awakening something that was believed to lay dormant within all of us."_

Were there anything in his stomach, he would have vomited all over the bed.

_"The potion unlocked the part of our magic that guides us to our soulmate."_

Draco could feel his fingers curl into fists.

_"They knew that most people would be resistant to it, so they slipped the potion into the water supply. It only took a few weeks to reach everyone."_

The words felt like acid on his tongue, "N-no… no…"

He could feel that she sagged, _"I know I would have never been your choice and that in any other circumstances you would have chosen literally anyone else but… I have your mark. They correspond with our patronuses and you are the only person I know to have a silver dragon."_

His thought were in chaos, his heart constricting painfully and he was edging ever closer to losing his fucking shit. 2 years in Azkaban, resigned to die there, only to find out that in five days he might be released… and that Hermione bleeding-heart fucking Granger was his soulmate. Fate sure was a fickle, vindictive bitch.

"N-no…"

_"I was already working on your case before I found out, so please don't think this was all out of some misguided attempt at winning your heart. I know you h-hate me…" _She stumbled a little. _"I was going to get you out of that hellhole anyway because you and your family don't deserve this but the whole soulmate thing kind of added to the urgency of the situation. I can feel how sad you are, how hopeless, and I'm trying so hard to get you out, Draco. I am. But even if for some reason I don't win on Tuesday, I still won't let them take you back there. I already have a secure safehouse and an illegal portkey ready in case the worst should happen."_

"N-no…" He repeated, a little stronger. "No, no…"

_"I know it's a lot to take in, but once your freed, we will get you healthy again and then you can take all the time you need to—"_

"No!" Draco shouted with shocking force, the force of his defiance breaking through his exhaustion as he pounded his fists against the hospital bed. "No! No, no! I'm tired of having my fucking choices taken from me! No! _NO!_"

Her voice was very quiet, _"I would never force you into anything, Draco. I would never ask anything of you after all you've been through. Once you're cleared of all charges - because you _will_ be cleared of them all - you are more the welcome to never see me again if that's your wish. The Ministry wasn't stupid enough to use actual binding magic in their potion so there is nothing that truly ties you to me. You can… you can date who you want and marry who you want. It doesn't have to mean anything if you don't want it to; they simply thought if people were guided to the person who completes them, that things might get better. I can understand the logic, though I don't agree at all with the way they went about it."_

He didn't say anything to that. How could he? His entire tiny existence had been turned on its head in the last few minutes and now he wasn't even sure which way was up. What the bloody fuck was he supposed to do now?

_"I should go. T_ _he guards will be coming to take you back to Azkaban…"_

At that, his hand shot out and long, pale fingers wrapped around her wrist in desperation. He even whimpered a little, though he would vehemently deny it. The truth was… he didn't want to go back. He knew what awaited him back in that tiny little 6x8 cell and he was terrified that he would actually be trapped there for the rest of his life. As abhorrent as the idea of a soulmate sounded - and Granger, no less - he still didn't want to go back to what he was certain had been designed to be his own personal hell.

What if she didn't keep her word? What if she abandoned him there?

_"I'm so sorry," _she choked, hand resting over his fingers wrapped around her wrist. _"It makes me sick but I have to let you go back. Please, just stick it out for five more days and then this will all be over. Please."_

He did not let go.

_"Draco, I know you're scared - I can feel it, that you're terrified to be trapped there, but I promise that I will come for you. I will get you out, but there's nothing I can do until Tuesday. Please be strong, if not for yourself then for your mother. She is so worried about you and I promised her I'd bring you home. Make it until Tuesday and then you never have to see me again, okay? Please. _Please_."_

The door burst open, banging against the wall behind it, _"The Healer said he's stable. Time to take him back to his cell. Step away from the prisoner, Miss."_

She very reluctantly let go of his hand and moved from the bed, _"Of course, mister…?"_

_"Tibbs," _the guard answered gruffly and Draco involuntarily stiffened. Oh yes, he knew this man.

_"Mister Tibbs. Right. And do you oversee Mister Malfoy often?"_

There was a moment of hesitation, _"I am the primary, yes Miss. Why do you ask?"_

_"Oh, no reason. Just curious as to who supervises him is all. I want to make sure my client is being treated as well as can be under the circumstances."_

_"Oh, er, of course. We treat all the prisoners with respect, Miss."_

_"Good. That's good. Because if you didn't, I certainly wouldn't to be on the receiving end of my wand - legalities be damned. Do you understand what I'm saying to you, Mister Tibbs?"_

_"I… I…"_

_"Do you understand that if Mister Malfoy comes under any more harm, that I will make the Cruciatus seem tame in comparison? Do you understand that if he is harmed in any way whatsoever before his trial on Tuesday that I will never stop until I've hunted you down? Do you understand that Narcissa Malfoy and Lucius Malfoy are much more creative with pain than I could ever hope to be? Do you understand these things, Mister Tibbs?"_

The guard cleared his throat, _"I understand, Miss."_

_"Lovely. Then I will be seeing you again in a few days. And do expect that even if Mister Malfoy for some reason refuses to tell me how you have behaved, I have my ways of finding out. Good day, Mister Tibbs."_

The door clicked shut.

Draco did not miss that the tightness in his chest had returned and that the guard, who had already assaulted him in every way imaginable, was handling him with the utmost respect and care.

Perhaps Granger didn't intend to leave him to rot after all.

Five days. His trial would be in five days. After the last two years, he could make it that long.

Somewhere in the back of his mind came an unfamiliar wave of sadness that was almost crushing in its intensity… and it wasn't his. He knew the feel of his own all too well.

Was it hers? Was this some sort of 'soulmate connection'?

Draco pushed it away - one thing at a time.

Five days.


	2. Chapter 2

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: J.K. Rowling is the sole owner of HP. I'm just playing around.**

* * *

Five days felt like an eternity waiting to see if Granger would keep her word. Five days felt like an endless nightmare when Draco finally convinced himself that it was all a dream; after all, he hadn't actually seen Granger or Blaise or even the Healer - he simply heard them. Surely after a few years in Azkaban he was insane enough already to imagine such an elaborate hallucination. But if it was all in his head… they why the bloody hell had he imagined Granger- bushy haired, plain as dirt, know-it-all Granger- as his soulmate? The only explanation he could fathom was that he was, indeed, succumbing to the madness and it was most welcome.

Then again, if he was losing his mind, was he also imagining that the guards were being extra cautious around him? Extra cordial? Had he… had he actually been fed _every day_ for the past few days? Yes, yes he had. The glaring absence of the aching hunger pangs he'd grown familiar with was evidence enough. And the lack of 'visits' from Tibbs, the lack of his face being shoved roughly against the cold, wet stones as the guard spat abuse at him and tore at his trousers… well, that was evidence as well.

So, something had happened at least.

But what?

Someone cleared their throat from the other side of the cell's bars, "Mister Malfoy, sir?"

Draco grit his teeth and huddled further into the dark corner. _Tibbs_. Power-tripping, rapist filth. If he ever, somehow, ended up with his family's money again, he was going to pay someone to kill the pig. Slowly. And excruciatingly painfully. Preferably while he watched.

"Mister Malfoy," Tibbs tried again, a little more forcefully, "the trial is in an hour. Your attorney has requested you be presentable."

"If you think I am ever going to willingly let you lay your filthy fucking hands on me, you are sorely mistaken," Draco hissed from the shadowed corner.

"Now, now Draco - he is simply following the orders he was given. Is the venom really necessary?"

Draco's steely gray eyes widened as he scurried towards the bars, voice trembling, "M-mother?"

Narcissa Malfoy's luminous face appeared on the other side as she knelt down to reach her hand through the bars and touch her son's cheek, "Hello, darling. Are you ready to leave this awful place?"

Tibbs snorted a little but Draco was too distracted by the relieved sobs building in his chest to care, "So it was real? It wasn't a dream? Granger's going to get me out?"

His mother smiled so sadly it nearly broke his heart, "Yes, dear. She is. And she, I daresay, is waiting for us." She inclined her head towards Tibbs. "If you would?"

The guard flicked his wand in a complex motion and the grimy, rusted bars melted away to the floor. Draco lunged at his mother, arms snaking around her as if he was afraid she would suddenly disappear… which really, was a rather reasonable fear considering the circumstances. She simply helped her son to his feet and, with tear-filled eyes and a trembling lip, led him towards the prison's exit.

x-x-x

Staring at his reflection in the immaculately shined marble floor, Draco hardly recognized himself. His hair had been cut back to the way he preferred it- shorter in the back and sides with a little more on top- but otherwise, he was someone else entirely. His skin was pulled tight over his bones and his already pale complexion looked dull and nearly gray. There were deep purple bruises beneath both eyes as a reminder of his almost near-constant insomnia and the luxurious Italian suit that had once been tailored to fit him like a glove was hanging from his skeletal frame in an almost comical manner. Well, you know, comical if he hadn't just spend 2 years in fucking Azkaban.

All that aside, he had to admit that it felt amazing to be clean again. For a while, he wasn't certain he ever would be again.

The Azkaban guards - ones he had never seen before, thank the Gods - inched him closer to the large double doors where the courtroom awaited and suddenly, he could hear soft voices coming from the hallway perpendicular to where he waited.

_"Breathe. Just breathe, Hermione. You can do this. You were ready to take on the Wizengamot three days after they were arrested; imagine how much more prepared you are now?"_

_"I know, I know. I just… what if I fail?"_

Draco's heart did a curious twisting in his chest. He could feel that wave of crushing sadness, fear, and insecurity again and frowned. These had to be her emotions; they certainly felt warmer than his.

_"You won't. And even if they refuse to clear the charges…" _His friend cleared his throat. _"We're prepared for that, remember?"_

_"Yes. Of course you're right. Sorry Blaise, I don't mean to be a bother. I know you must be sick to death of dealing with me for the past two years."_

He chuckled, _"Never. I find you surprisingly delightful."_

_"I bet you say that to all the girls."_

_"Only to the ones I love, so no worries there. Your competition is comfortingly slim."_

Draco ground his teeth together, something that felt suspiciously like jealously clawing at his organs. _Mine_, his subconscious hissed. _Mine_. But he tamped that down, horrified to have even thought it. No, no he would not have his future dictated for him anymore. He would not go simpering after Granger like a lost puppy simply because of some soul-manipulation orchestrated by the Ministry. Granger and Blaise could flirt all they wanted; hell, they could shag themselves into oblivion for all he cared.

"Miss Granger?" The courtroom guard's head popped from behind a one of the slightly opened doors. "They are ready for you."

As Draco followed Blaise and Granger into the courtroom, he'd tried very hard not to vomit at the thought of them together.

**_-2 years, 3 weeks, 12 days ago-_**

_"Hey!"_

_"Is that… Harry Potter?!"_

_"Watch it… oh, I'm so sorry! I didn't realize!"_

_"Everyone, out of the way. It's the Chosen One!"_

_Hermione rolled her eyes as she replaced the last of her law books on the shelf. The war was over, didn't everyone else get the notice? Didn't they realize that Harry hated the attention? Merlin, even the Ministry was filled with dunderheads._

_Her best friend came barreling around the stacks of the Ministry library, his face splotchy and red from running. He sagged against the table where her study guides sat, awaiting her return from the bookshelf. She retook her seat and chuckled affectionately, "Miss me already? I thought we had plans for dinner tonight?"_

_"'M-Mione…" Harry gasped, trying to catch his breath. "'Mione, we have to do something!"_

_Hermione frowned, anxiety already taking up residence in her gut, "What's wrong? What's happened?"_

_"They saved us, 'Mione. They saved our lives- more than once- and the Ministry had them arrested! How in the hell is that fair? How can they _do_ something like that?"_

_"Saved our…" Her eyes widened and she dropped her quill, ink splattering her notes. "The Malfoy's? The Ministry had the Malfoy's arrested?"_

_He nodded, "Lucius and Draco were taken away in magic suppression cuffs, and Narcissa had her wand revoked and was sentenced to indefinite house arrest. I tried to talk to the guards, to tell them that there was a mistake but… they had a court order, Hermione! It was signed by the fucking Minister!"_

_"Oh gods… where are they? Please don't say—"_

_"Azkaban."_

_"Azkaban," she finished quietly. "Shit. Harry, I… I still have six more months before I can legally take my certification exam. And I won't be allowed in front of the Wizengamot until I'm certified."_

_Harry ran a shaking hand through his unruly hair, "Six months… do you think the Malfoy's will last in Azkaban for six months?"_

_"I know Lucius can; he's done it before. But Draco… I honestly don't know. He isn't like his father."_

_"No," her friend replied solemnly, "he isn't like his father."_

_Hermione scrubbed her trembling fingers over her face and let out a deep breath, "Okay. Okay, we can't make mistakes. We have to think about this rationally. In six months I can declare myself as their attorney and request a trial date. Considering who we are and who the Minister is, I am fairly certain they will grant us one rather quickly. That means we just need to put together our case before then."_

_"Can you do that in six months? I've already heard that the Wizengamot is prepared to throw the book at them, have them locked away for life and seize all their assets."_

_Her first clenched against the faded wood of the table, "I won't let them. Lucius may be a prejudiced prick but everyone knows he was under the Imperious curse and Draco saved our lives. I won't let those old fools on the bench condemn them simply because of who they are and what they have."_

_Harry took one of her hands in his, "Of course you won't. Right about now I'm wondering why I even bothered to worry at all."_

_She chewed her lip for a moment, "Do you mind if we cancel dinner tonight? I want to get working on their case and I think I should stop by the Manor to get a few statements from Narcissa. I want to get to her while everything is still fresh in her mind."_

_"Absolutely, I understand. Owl me when you have something put together, yeah?"_

_"Of course, Harry. Now run along back to the MLE," she shooed him with her hand even as she kissed his cheek. "I have some books to consult."_

**-Present Day-**

Draco was shoved rather unceremoniously into a large, uncomfortable wooden chair to the left of the Minister's bench where the guards immediately waved their wands to bind his wrists and ankles. He turned to see his father similarly bound in an identical chair on the right side. His father caught his gaze and looked just as lost as he felt. It was clear that Lucius did not have faith in a Muggleborn to free them.

Draco wasn't so sure he had faith either. Life simply didn't work that way for him.

At the large table between them, Granger was shuffling some parchment into a neat little pile. Once they were all arranged to her liking, she smoothed her hands down her white silk blouse and patted the high bun where she'd managed to reign in most of her wild curls. This was the first time since the end of the war, since the Final Battle, that he'd seen her. Had she always been so…? Maybe not gorgeous, but certainly...

Granger froze, hands at her hair as her warm eyes flickered to his.

That strange feeling was back in his chest. It almost felt like… affection? Draco squashed it as quickly as he could. No, _no_. He was grateful that she had gotten him out of that hellhole, that's all. Yes, grateful. Not affection, but appreciation.

_Not affection, but appreciation. Not affection, but appreciation. Not affection, but appreciation._

"All rise for the honorable Minister of Magic and Chief Warlock, Kingsley Shacklebolt."

Draco repeated the mantra in his head, over and over, until he was certain he believed it.

**_-1 year, 4 months, 8 days ago-_**

_"This is absolutely mad, Hermione. What the bloody hell is wrong with you?!"_

_She sighed, rubbing at her temples. Was it too much to ask for some sleep? "Ronald, please. I know it's hard for you to understand but…"_

_"Hard to understand? You think this is 'hard to understand'? Arithmancy is hard to understand, Divination is hard to understand. Your obsession over freeing the Malfoy's has gone beyond 'hard to understand' and entered the realm of 'fucking barmy'!"_

_"I am _not_ obsessed!"_

_Ron threw up his hands in exasperation, "You just got your certification and the only client you'll take on is the Malfoy's. People are nearly tripping over each other to have you represent them and you're giving up all that money for a family that can't even afford to pay you! A family, I'd like to add, that has done nothing but make your life hell since you were eleven years old. What the fuck is going on, Hermione?"_

_Hermione took a deep, calming breath. She knew her boyfriend was just frustrated with her preoccupation with the Malfoy's for the past few months but it didn't make it any easier to deal with, "Ronlald, I understand what you're saying. I do. But whether you like it or not, whether you like _them _or not, Draco saved all of us that day at the Manor—"_

_"And then just stood by and watched as you were tortured near death—"_

_"And Narcissa lied to Voldemort about Harry—"_

_"Only to run away with her coward of a son when the fighting started—"_

_"And Lucius, for all his faults, was trapped beneath the Imperious curse for at least 5 years—"_

_"Serves him right, the hateful fucking prick—"_

_Hermione's fists came slamming down on the rickety table, "RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY, THAT IS ENOUGH!"_

_He stared at her in shock, mouth hanging slightly agape._

_"That family has been treated more unfairly than anyone else in this entire war. Even the other Death Eaters, some who raped and tortured and murdered, were given less time in Azkaban than the Malfoy's. Some of them got no time at all! How can you just expect me to sit by and allow such an injustice to continue? Because Draco was a bully when we were in school?" She scoffed. "If that were the precedent for letting people suffer, then you would have had quite a different Hogwarts experience without me, I assure you."_

_Ron's face was reddening._

_"The Malfoy's are free to like and hate anyone they choose, as is everyone else in this world. But I refuse to stand by and let their entire life be eviscerated by a corrupt Wizengamot that has eyes only for their assets!"_

_He was quickly nearing purple now._

_"I understand that Draco is not our friend, that he never has been. I understand that he's never even been nice to us. But… for Merlin's sake, Ronald! He's _our_ age and already been sentenced a lifetime in Azkaban when he only did what he had to in order to survive. How is that fair? How is it fair to take the rest of his life away from him because he was mean to us?"_

_Ron exploded, unrestrained magic bursting from his skin and sizzling around the room as he nearly leapt from the table, "That's it, isn't it? You have a thing for Malfoy!"_

_Hermione blanched, her gut roiling uncomfortably for some reason, "A thing… for Draco? Why on earth would you think that?"_

_"I knew there was something more to your 'rivalry'," he sneered while air-quoting. "I knew there was something else there. You like him! You like Draco fucking Malfoy and that's why you're busting your arse to save him!"_

_"Ronald," Hermione swallowed thickly, panic rising. "I don't know what you're talking about. I've never thought of him like—"_

_He gripped her upper arms and slammed her back into the kitchen wall, still shouting, "You fucking_ bitch!_ Lavender was right about you! She always said…"_

_Harry came bursting into the kitchen, bright emerald eyes livid with fury and wand already out, "Stupefy!"_

_Ron crumpled to the floor._

_The other boy came scrambling over to her, "Are you okay? Did he hurt you? Merlin, I could fucking kill him for being such a prat like that. Is your head alright?"_

_Hermione nodded rather numbly, "Yes… I'm fine."_

_"Why didn't you fight back? Everyone knows your better than Ron with magic even on his best day and your worst."_

_"Harry…" She said slowly, eyes meeting. "He thinks I like Draco."_

_Her friend looked genuinely surprised, "You don't?"_

_She felt her gut churning again, heart racing, "Why would you think something like that?"_

_"I've known you for a long time, 'Mione. I can see that this thing with Ron… that you're just going through the motions."_

_"Why didn't you say something?"_

_"I didn't think it was my place. I figured when you were ready to start living for yourself, you'd break it off with him."_

_"And Draco?"_

_He watched her for a long time before his lips quirked up a little, "They do say there's a fine line between love and hate. You and Ron may be about as passionate together as a Frost Troll in the middle of an ice storm, but you and Malfoy… that would probably be something more along the lines of Fiendfyre in the hands of Professor Snape."_

_Hermione balked, "I never… I never even thought…"_

_Harry's brow rose, "Really? You're telling me that you've never imagined snogging the living daylights out of him just to see what it would be like? If that 'hate' would change into something else?"_

_She blushed furiously._

_"I thought so."_

_Hermione was so confused. Draco Malfoy had been her enemy, her arch-nemesis (damn TV and damn Harry for buying one) for all intents and purposes since she came to Hogwarts. And everyone thought she had feelings for him? Well, to be fair she did have rather strong feelings, but always considered them to be of the unfriendly variety. Had she been wrong? Had she missed something?_

_"I'm… I'm a Mudblood, Harry. He made it painfully apparent for seven years that he would never lower himself to that."_

_Harry grimaced at the word but continued on, "I wouldn't be so sure. Don't you think it might have confused him to feel something for you when he'd been raised on that blood purity nonsense? Don't you think that might have made him angry and want to keep you away?"_

_Hermione chewed her lip. She had so many questions now; were Harry and Ron the only ones to think she felt that way? Did others think that as well? Did she actually care about the arrogant git? When she'd heard that he and his father had been arrested, she was so blinded with the fury of injustice that she hadn't really stopped to consider any other reason. Perhaps it was time to think about it._

_"I should go. I need to think about this," she tucked her wand into her pocket and grabbed her beaded bag- full of Malfoy files- off the table and moved towards the door. When she reached the threshold, Hermione sighed. "I'm sorry to put this on you, Harry, but when Ronald comes around, please tell him we're done. You're right- I can't pretend that this is working anymore and I'm not sure we'll even be able to salvage a friendship after this."_

_Harry nodded, "Of course, 'Mione."_

_With that, Hermione stepped into the night and disappeared with a sharp CRACK! of Disapparition._

**-Present Day-**

Hermione Granger took a deep breath and smiled brilliantly, "Ladies and gentlemen of the esteemed Wizengamot, it is with great pleasure that I stand before you today. Thank you so much for taking the time to hear our case with an open heart and mind."

Each of the twenty-seven witches and wizards on the benches nodded in acknowledgement, their deep plum robes fluttering ever so slightly with the movement. Minister Shacklebolt gestured towards her, "You are most welcome here, Miss Granger. Please, present your opening argument for us."

She nodded demurely, "Of course. I stand before you today to request the clearing of all charges levied against Mister Lucius Abraxas Malfoy and Mister Draco Lucius Malfoy."

There was a collective murmur around the courtroom and she could hear both the men shift uncomfortably in their wooden chairs.

Shacklebolt's expression was neutral as he held up a hand to silence the murmurs, "We accept your request and will allow you to present your evidence."

Hermione grabbed the stack of parchment and a little black container, "I have here over twenty-five written statements, all recorded under the influence of Veritaserum, that detail the different ways in which the Malfoy family has either attempted to aid the side of the Light or actively defy Voldemort during the war. In the interest of full disclosure, two are from me, and two are from Harry Potter. There are also copies of memories from all of those statements in this box for your review as well."

She could feel two pairs of aristocratic eyes boring into her back as she took the items to the Minister but simply took another breath to calm herself. _She could do this._

Shacklebolt magically replicated the documents and dispersed the copies to the Wizengamot, "Please, elaborate if you will."

"While Draco Malfoy and myself were not friends during our time at Hogwarts, though my friends and I were openly antagonistic with him, he still refused to identify us that night we were captured by Snatchers and taken to Malfoy Manor. He knew it was us; only Harry's appearance had been altered. Yet, he feigned ignorance. Because of this, our lives were spared that night."

An older man who looked suspiciously similar to Corban Yaxley, stood from the benches, "And then he and his entire family stood back and watched as you were tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange, is this correct?"

Hermione's spine stiffened and she flexed her hands a few times to stave of the Cruciatus tremors that still plagued her from time to time, "Yes, that is correct. It is my firm belief, however, that there was nothing they could have done for me at that time. Not if they wanted to remain alive as well. I can't fault them for that."

The man sat back down.

Shacklebolt nodded, "And your argument for his father?"

Her eyes narrowed, though she tried to prevent it, "Lucius Malfoy was under a very strong Imperious curse that was repeatedly cast by multiple parties for over five years. The fact that he is even in prison at all violates at least three laws and nine precedents I have already come across. Shall I go on?"

Every single member of the Wizengamot had the decency to look abashed.

The Minister cleared his throat, "No, that will not be necessary. Was there anything else you wished to present before we break to review these documents?"

Hermione nodded, "I would also like Missus Narcissa Malfoy to be given her wand back and released from her house arrest as she saved Harry Potter's life by lying directly to Voldemort for him. I believe we all understand that we would probably not be here today if not for her. _And_—" She added as she could see that someone wanted to interrupt again. "You will also find Harry Potter's statement regarding Narcissa Malfoy in that pile as well."

Shacklebolt stood and tapped his wand three times on his podium, "Excellent. We will review the evidence and reconvene in three hours. You are all dismissed."

**_-1 year, 3 months ago-_**

_"The rumors can't be true, right?"_

_"No way. They'd never get away with a marriage law. It has to be something else."_

_"I heard that the potioneers have been working day and night on something…"_

_"The potioneers? But why?"_

_"I dunno. Fertility potion, maybe? I can't imagine what else it could be."_

_Hermione sighed. Apparently gaining her Magical Law certification and being a war veteran was not enough to garner her a decent office where the walls weren't as thin as tissue paper. She rubbed her temples before turning back to the scroll on her desk._

_Her eyes scanned the confidential interdepartmental request and her brows nearly disappeared into her bushy curls._

_**Legal, moral, and ethical ramifications of soul-magic.**_

_Why the hell was the Department of Magical Rights and Bonds requesting this information from her? Furthermore, why was is confidential - spelled only for her eyes? Hermione sighed; some foolish teenagers must be fooling around with soulmate charms again. Dunderheads - didn't they understand the seriousness of something like this? There was a reason that soulmates were exceedingly rare: not everyone was truly meant for it. She rolled her shoulders a few times until they popped and then flicked her wrist towards her bookshelf._

_It was going to be a long night._

**-Present Day-**

"Why is she doing this for us?"

Draco's brow furrowed as he fidgeted with the hem of his jacket. Flashes of his trip to St. Mungo's flashed through his mind but he shoved them away. No. _No_. Instead, he shrugged halfheartedly, "Bleeding heart Gryffindor until the end."

His father shook his head, "No, this is something else. This is something more than a Gryffindor's misguided sense of duty. She is almost frighteningly prepared for them, even after all we've done…"

Draco could feel something deep in his chest, perhaps even deeper down, reaching out for her. He could feel the need for her in his bones. _Just once,_ that thing crooned. _Just touch her once and you'll see_. He clenched his fists. NO.

"Do you think—"

The door to the little conference room opened to reveal Blaise in a perfectly tailored cobalt suit, his dark eyes flitting between the two prisoners at an almost alarming rate.

"How are you two? Do you need anything?"

Lucius straightened himself and smiled at the boy he'd always liked, "Something to eat would not go amiss, if you please."

"Absolutely. I'll bring something right away," he turned to Draco. "How are you holding up, Drake?"

_I can feel her anxiety and it's gnawing away at my soul. I can feel her fear and it makes me want to murder someone. She smells like apples and roses and I want to bury my face in her hair until I drown in her. She is everything; the moon in the sky and the sun and the stars. I can't breathe when she's so far away. I want to rip off that tight black skirt and plunge straight into her tight little—_

"As well as can be expected," he said instead, desperately feigning disinterest and furiously shoving the unwelcome thoughts away. "What do you think of all this? How are our chances?"

Blaise's eyes lit up, "There isn't a chance in the world that you'll be sent back there. Hermione is absolutely brilliant and she's thought of this from every angle. No matter what she has to do, she _will_ get you two out of here today."

Something stirred within him, jealous and possessive. _Oh she's brilliant, is she? Touch her and I'll rip your fucking hand off and feed it to you._

No. No Blaise was his best friend and if he wanted to shag that plain little swot Granger…

Draco pitched forward, clutching his chest.

"Drake!"

"Draco!"

Just the thought of her with him, with anyone else, nearly shredded his heart. It hurt more than a Cruciatus from Voldemort, more than being abused in Azkaban, more than wishing he could just die.

Fuck.

"Do you need a Healer? We don't have one on hand but Hermione is adept at healing as well and I can go get her if…"

"No," he wheezed, straightening. "No. I'm fine."

"She can heal as well?" Lucius paused, clearly surprised. "Is there anything she can't do?"

Blaise chuckled, "Shit at flying, if you can believe that. Otherwise, she's near unstoppable. Seriously man, are you okay?"

Draco waved him off, once again replacing his cool façade, "Just a spasm. I get them sometimes. Nothing to worry over. Weren't you bringing us lunch?"

His friend looked unsure for a moment before smiling in exasperation, "Good to see you're still you. I'd be pretty worried if you started being pleasant all of a sudden."

He genuinely grinned at that, "It will take more than a few years in Azkaban to soften me, Zabini."

"Of course, Merlin help us all. I'll be right back with something for you guys."

His friend gently pulled the door closed but it didn't quite click shut.

And then, the men heard her voice.

_"Kingsley, please. There has to be something you can do. I can't let them go back there - not after all of this. Please."_

The Minister sighed, _"If I had my way, they would never have even been arrested in the first place, Hermione. I know just as well as you what they did for the war and that Lucius being imprisoned is basically illegal. But it isn't up to me. These gods damned bureaucratic traditions go back thousands of years and even being Minister AND a member of the Sacred 28 doesn't give me any more freedom to help. It has to go through the entire Wizengamot and they have to vote in favor of acquittal. I wish I could help because I know how hard you've been working on this for the past two years, but getting you this hearing date was quite literally all I could do."_

_"I'm sorry, I don't mean to sound ungrateful but I'm just so terrified that we're going to lose. I can't let them go back, Kingsley. You know I won't, even if you have to arrest me."_

Draco and his father stared at each other in disbelief.

_"Don't be ridiculous, I would never do that to you. Who do you think tampered with the paperwork so you could get the illegal portkeys?"_

She let out a long breath, _"I owe you more than I can ever repay. Just… tell me how we win this. Tell me what I have to do to convince them."_

_"It's… it's going to be hard. They are already suspect of your motives."_

_"Shit. I tried to present everything as objectively as I could. Was I that transparent?"_

_"No, of course not. They just suspect everyone's motives. But if you truly want to sway them without a shadow of a doubt…"_

There was a long moment of silence. _"No. No, you must be joking."_

He didn't answer.

_"Tell them? You want me to tell them? Not a chance in hell!"_

_"It's your ace in the hole, Hermione. You tell them and I guarantee they will clear those two before you can even release the binds on their chairs. Even they aren't _that_ heartless."_

_"Draco will murder me. Slowly. With every painful hex he's ever learned while simultaneously throwing lemon juice on the wounds. Then his father will heal me only to follow suit. NO."_

Lucius turned to his son, his voice low, "What is she talking about, Draco?"

Draco paled, "I…"

_"He doesn't… reciprocate?"_

Hermione let out a barking laugh, _"Are you kidding? He loathes me probably more now than he did when we were in school. You should have seen how he reacted when I told him. Merlin, the look on his face… it was like he was being Crucio'd. I imagine it's his worst nightmare. No, no I can't use that in court. I can't."_

"Draco," his father snapped, "what is she talking about?"

_"But… that isn't how the magic is supposed to work. He should want—"_

_"And you think that makes it better? You think I want to take another choice away from him?"_

_"Of course not, I didn't mean it that way. We made sure that it wasn't an impediment to free will, just—"_

_"Exactly. It's not an impediment to free will. I will not be another shackle for him to bear."_

Lucius gripped his son's arm painfully, "What have they done?"

Half of him wanted to fight it. The other half wanted him to give in because it knew that he would end up feeling more complete, more whole than he ever had in his entire life. She was hurting and it ripped through him like an Entrail-Expelling curse. He wanted to comfort her; he wanted to strangle her.

It was all so confusing.

_"At least ask him if you can use it, should it be necessary. I'm certain his father will understand."_

Hermione did not answer.

"Draco—"

Blaise came through the door again with an armful of food. He clicked the door shut with his foot and set the items down on the table as he winked at Draco, "Lunch, your highness."

Draco ran a hand through his hair. Suddenly he wasn't hungry anymore.

**_-1 year, 1 month, 4 days ago-_**

_Hermione stormed into the Minister's waiting room and blasted through the door to office with a wandless fireball that was really rather unnecessary but she was simply to upset to contain it. His personal assistant, Eva, had shuffled away from the door as soon as she'd stormed in._

_"What did you do?!" Hermione roared, palms smacking against his polished cherry desk. "What the FUCK did you do?!"_

_Kingsley held up his hands in surrender, his face otherwise calm, "I know you're angry but…"_

_"Angry? ANGRY? YOU THINK I'M ANGRY? I should hex you to the moon and back you- you- you-"_

_Just then, Harry stumbled into his office as well. His eyes caught Hermione's, "You too?"_

_"Of course, me too. Everyone, too! We all have one now!"_

_He turned to the Minister, to their friend, "What the hell happened, Kingsley? What is this?"_

_The Minister sighed, gesturing for them to sit down as he waved his wand to repair the shattered door. Once it was whole and back in place, he clicked it shut and ran his dark hands over his face, "They wanted to pass a marriage law."_

_Hermione blanched, "As in forcing people to get married."_

_He nodded._

_Harry groaned, "So in order to prevent that, you did _this_ instead?"_

_"What else was I supposed to do? The Wizengamot was adamant that something had to be done to address the declining birth rate and I figured that this would be the least intrusive path to follow and by some miracle they went along with it. At least this way, people still have their free will; it's only meant as an encouragement, a guide. They don't have to do anything about it if they choose not to."_

_The trio was silent for a long time._

_"Who's yours?" Harry asked Kingsley softly, not looking away from the ceiling._

_"I am lucky," he responded just as quietly. "It's my wife."_

_"Narcissa, too. Hers is Lucius," Hermione raged internally at the injustice of it all, burying her face in her hands. "Gods damn it."_

_"You?" He asked Harry, who was still staring at the ceiling despondently._

_"It appeared on my thigh as a lion poised behind a stallion."_

_"No ideas as to who?"_

_"I have a guess, though I can't imagine he will be happy if I'm right."_

_"And you?" The Minister turned to Hermione. "Who is it for you?"_

_She looked up, eyes full of tears mascara smeared all over, and tugged up the sleeve of her blouse to reveal a fierce looking female lion protecting a shimmering silver dragon on her forearm._

_"I thought they matched our patronus?" Harry rubbed at his leg nervously. "Wasn't your patronus an otter, 'Mione?"_

_"Not any more, apparently," she pulled her sleeve back down. "I already tried the spell. My otter is gone."_

_Kingsley frowned, "Does that mean…"_

_"Draco fucking Malfoy," Hermione croaked, falling against Harry who immediately wrapped his arms around her. "My soulmate is Draco gods damned Malfoy."_

_"I understand the shock, considering your previous relationship. But as I said - there is no actual binding magic. You are free to ignore it if you prefer."_

_At that, Hermione only sobbed harder - her best friend's eyes slipping shut as she broke down against him._

**-Present Day-**

"After careful consideration of the evidence, it is clear that there is more going on here than is being presented."

Hermione felt her stomach wind into knots and her palms start to sweat, "I beg your pardon?"

The elderly witch, a Parkinson by the looks of her squished face, was blank as slate, "It's clear to us that you have put more time and effort into this case than anyone could possibly fathom. Considering your antagonistic relationship with Mister Draco Malfoy in school and your subsequent torture by his family, we are rather hesitant to grant a decision when we don't know what your true motivations are."

"He and his family are my clients," she hissed. "What other reason do I need?"

Another woman, this one much younger and prettier stood, "With all due respect, Miss Granger, we would like to ask you a few questions under the influence of Veritaserum."

Hermione felt sick.

**_-7 months ago-_**

_Blaise came sweeping into the study, plucking the ancient tome from her hands, "You need to get some rest, Granger. This isn't good for your health."_

_"Uh oh," she mocked through her exhaustion. "You only call me that when you're angry. What have I done now?"_

_His serious expression did not soften, "I'm not kidding, Hermione. We're worrying ourselves sick over you."_

_She faked a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, "I'm just fine, Blaise. But you and Harry are sweethearts for caring. May I please have my book back now? I was just about to find another precedent about Lucius's imprisonment and—"_

_"HERMIONE!"_

_She froze. Blaise rarely, if ever, shouted at her._

_He sighed, "I know you're desperate to get him out of there. I _know_. But what good will all of this have done if you work yourself into an early grave?"_

_"Blaise… I really am fine. But if it will ease your mind, I'll go and take a bath to relax for a bit. Is that acceptable?"_

_His smile was warm as he set the book back on Lucius's extravagant desk, "Yes. I'd be very pleased with that."_

_Hermione shook her head a little and stood…_

_Only to collapse immediately afterwards._

_"Narcissa! Harry! Help, please!" Blaise shouted towards the door and in seconds they were both there._

_"What happened?" Harry demanded, rushing to her._

_Narcissa came to Hermione's side as well, gently lifting her arm, "Hermione, love? Can you hear me?"_

_"Yes," she replied weakly. "I-I'm sorry about that. I'm fine, r-really."_

_Her best friend's eyes were hard, "When was the last time you ate something?"_

_"No… time…" Hermione breathed, sagging against Narcissa until Harry had to help hold her up as well. "Have to help…"_

_Blaise was nearly vibrating with fury._

_Narcissa stopped him with a sharp glance before turning a softer expression to the younger witch, "Darling, you have to eat. You have to rest. You can't keep working as if you aren't a human who needs basic care to survive."_

_"But… but Draco… Lucius…"_

_"Oh sweetheart," she sighed. "I will never be able to repay you for trying to help my boys, but I would very much like for you to be alive long enough for me to try. Can you manage that for me?"_

_"Can't… leave him there…"_

_Harry pressed his lips to her temple as they gently walked her towards the room in the East Wing Narcissa had already designated as hers, "Can you please not damage yourself any more than necessary? I really don't fancy being torn apart by Malfoy when he comes home."_

_Hermione managed a weak laugh, "H-hardly. He'd thank you… for being rid of me."_

_Narcissa frowned, "Darling, what are you talking about? He's your soulmate."_

_She shook her head softly, world spinning as she sagged further, "Mudblood… never want me… too dirty… too ugly… he's so beautiful…"_

_"Hermione…"_

_"Want him to be happy… will let him go…"_

_And she promptly passed out._

_Narcissa didn't even bother to hide her tears as she and a forlorn Harry laid the unconscious girl on the large canopied bed._

**-Present Day-**

"Do you consent to the use of Veritaserum, Miss Granger?" The pretty Wizengamot woman asked again.

Hermione chewed her lip. If they used that potion on her, they would know. Everyone would know. Draco and Lucius would be humiliated and the press would never leave them in peace again. Her secret would be out and then, when she and Draco didn't end up together, everyone in the Wizarding World would pity poor, plain, bookish Hermione Granger…

She turned her head to catch Draco's molten steel gaze. If she was going to do this, she had to know it was okay. She had to know he agreed.

He looked openly conflicted for a long time.

"Miss Granger?"

Draco deflated a little and gave a small nod, just once.

She turned back to the Wizengamot, "I consent if everyone but the accused, their matriarch, and my associates Blaise Zabini and Harry Potter are removed."

The Minister smiled softly, "Of course. Everyone, if you would please make your way to the hall. Guards, please have another chair brought in and silence the room."


	3. Chapter 3

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: J.K. Rowling is the sole owner of HP. I'm just playing around.**

* * *

**_-5 days ago-_**

_"Hermione? Are you here? Narcissa has some guests and Harry got called in on a mission but he wanted me to bring you…" Blaise froze in the doorway to her bedroom, the glass container of Molly Weasley's food shattering against the hardwood floor. He rushed to her side and almost skidded across the floor on his knees. "What's wrong?"_

_Hermione curled into herself further, whimpering, "He's hurting so much. He just wants it to be over."_

_His expression softened as he settled against the bed, taking her hand. Her fingers were curled into a tight fist, "Drake is strong. Stronger than most people give him credit for. He'll be okay, Hermione. He can make it through this."_

_Tears leaked from her eyes onto to the luxurious pillowcase as she started to weep, "He's praying for death. His despair is tearing me apart from the inside out. I feel like I can hardly breathe, Blaise. It just hurts so much."_

_"I know. When Harry and I went to visit his parent's graves… gods, the pain was enough to knock me to my knees. I know it hurts, Hermione but we're almost there. He'll be free soon."_

_"He won't want me," Hermione murmured, more to the blankets than to him. "How could he?"_

_Blaise pulled her against him, "Then he's a fucking idiot."_

_"What if he can't stand the thought?" She whispered against his chest. "What if the thought of us… what if it makes him sick?"_

_His embrace tightened, "Hermione…"_

_"Shacklebolt didn't do it halfway, Blaise. He and the potioneers consulted with muggle geneticists. The potion tapped into our genes, our DNA, and our magic. If he's… if he's truly my soulmate, if he wears a matching mark, then that means he is the other half… the missing piece. What am I supposed to do if my missing piece can't stand me?"_

_He didn't have an answer for her._

_They spent the rest of the night like that- Hermione tucked against his shoulder silently crying for Draco, for herself, for everything that might or might not come to pass._

_Eventually Narcissa returned and offered to stay with her so Blaise could get home to Harry._

_x-x-x_

_The next morning, Hermione was awakened by Blaise's desperate head shouting through the Floo, "Draco's in St. Mungo's, Hermione! Get here as quick as you can, they're trying to discharge him already and they haven't done a damn thing!"_

_She was stepping into the emerald flames not three minutes later._

**-Present Day-**

The courtroom guard gave her an apologetic smile as he tipped her head back, "Sorry about this, Miss Granger. Please drink it all."

Two unpleasantly slimy swallows later, Hermione felt her limbs buzzing. The room took on a curiously sparkly sheen and her mind seemed to float.

_Focus._ She told herself. _Focus and protect the backup plan. Bury it._

Hermione took a few deep breaths, shoving the illegal backup plan beneath her Occlumency shields. Once she felt the information was sufficiently hidden, she looked up at the bench.

The Minister had a piece of parchment in front of him with all of the Wizengamot's questions written on it. He cleared his throat, "Pardon the formalities, but who are you?"

The words spilled from her mouth like vomit, "Hermione Jean Granger; born September 19th, 1979. Virgo. Daughter of Richard and Helen Granger, muggles- deceased. 7 NEWTs passed, all with Outstanding's—"

Shacklebolt held up a hand, smirking, "Thank you, Miss Granger. We can see the potion is indeed working. Now, let us begin." He glanced down at the paper. "Miss Granger, when did you first decide to take the Malfoy's case?"

Something inside of her was rebelling, fighting against the Veritaserum but it was too strong. Whatever it was, it wanted to protect Draco.

"I… ngggh…" She winced, wriggling against her binds. "I decided the moment Harry Potter told me they'd been arrested."

"And why did you decide to help them?"

That thing inside of her was clawing at the potion bubbling throughout her system, desperately trying to dislodge it but it could not. Hermione clenched her fists, "I… I… ngghhh…"

"Miss Granger, fighting the potion only causes pain."

"Yes, I _know_… ngggh… I… I felt their imprisonment was u-unfair…"

"And there was no other ulterior motive?"

"N… not that I was aware of at the time…"

Everyone stiffened and leaned forward.

Shacklebolt cleared his throat again, "Are you aware of one now?"

It was a lion. That's the thing that was clawing inside of her, a very pissed off lion - her patronus? It wanted to protect Draco, to protect her secrets for fear of… everything. Fear of everything. Fear of everyone. Fear of losing him. Hermione grunted against the chair, "Y-yes…"

She could feel both sets of gray eyes on her.

"And what was the ulterior motive you discovered?"

"D-Draco…" Hermione breathed his name like it was a prayer and several members of the Wizengamot gasped.

The Minister held up a hand to calm everyone, "So you had feelings for him?"

"C-confusing ones…" She admitted, struggling against the chair involuntarily as the Veritaserum burned through her veins. "Strong ones… frightening ones…"

He nodded as if nothing was amiss and turned back to the sheet, "Miss Granger, were you affected by the potion the Ministry put into the water supply?"

"Y-yes… nggghhhh… everyone was…"

"And did you find a mark on your skin that identified a soulmate?"

"Y-yes…"

The tension in the room was palpable.

"And, Miss Granger, who do you believe your soulmate to be?"

"I… I…" She gasped, head knocked back against the tall wooden chair as she squeezed her eyes shut. "I-I'm sorry… so sorry…"

It wasn't the Wizengamot she was apologizing to and the twinge in her chest proved that _he_ knew it.

"Miss Granger, who is your soulmate?"

Hermione pitched forward, breathing extremely hard as the words slipped past her lips in a harsh gasp, "Draco Malfoy."

The Wizengamot went insane. Everyone was leaping forward and shouting, either at the Minister or at each other. Hermione was too busy drowning in the feel of guilt and betrayal, of the roar of her inner lion to notice.

_"You must release the boy and his father at once!"_

_"Yes, give the girl everything she has asked for. Expunge their records, give their mother her wand. Return it all!"_

_"This is unacceptable! Soulmates cannot be separated this way!"_

_"They deserve compensation for their time in Azkaban!"_

_"Hermione Granger is a war hero; how dare you sign off on imprisoning her beloved?!"_

_"Unbind the men at once!"_

"QUIET!" The Minister boomed, his voice echoing imperiously around the cavernous courtroom. "We are not finished here. There is one more question to be asked before judgement can be rendered."

The Wizengamot members sat down, many of them twitching anxiously.

He turned back to her, "Miss Granger, why are you sorry?"

"Didn't m-mean… he'd never want… nnngh…" Hermione fought against the potion, not wanting to spill her deepest dears in front of people who were, essentially her coworkers. Not to mention the source of her fears and his parents not far behind. "M-mudblood…"

The room grew uncomfortably silent until the only sound was her ragged breathing.

"That is enough. All in favor of conviction, please raise your hands."

Hermione managed to raise her head to see that not a single person moved.

"All in favor of acquittal, please raise your hands."

Every single hand in the Wizengamot shot straight into the air.

Relief flooded through her; she had done it. Two years worth of work - of sleepless nights and exhaustion and forgetting to eat and collapsing from fatigue - it was all worth it. The Malfoy's were free and clear.

The guards came forward and unbound both men from their restraints before coming to very gently tip a Veritaserum antidote into her mouth and then undo to magic that bound her to her chair.

Hermione fell from the chair immediately, only just managing to catch herself on the polished marble floor. Before she could blink, Narcissa was there, holding her up. Her typically cool, calm demeanor was shattered and she was sobbing, "Oh my sweet Hermione, thank you so much. Thank you for saving my boys. I cannot possibly ever repay you for what you've done for us."

Lucius, resplendent as ever (if not a tad thin) in his dress robes, came to help her stand, "Yes, Miss Granger. I will never be able to properly thank you for what you have done for us. Though it seems that I may have the chance to try, seeing as you are to become a part of our family soon."

She looked up in shock, "N-no… I mean, no disrespect of course but I believe that should be Draco's decision."

He gave her a beautiful, though slightly chilly smile, "I am certain my son will do the right thing here, Miss Granger."

Narcissa hit him with a sharp glare, "You will not be pressuring our son into anything this time, Lucius. Miss Granger has no desire to force him into anything he isn't ready for."

His white-blond eyebrows rose, "Not ready for? Dear, are you forgetting the almost mountainous pile of letters we have stashed away from Draco's school days? She was the only thing he ever talked about. I highly doubt he isn't ready for her - he's been waiting for something like this since they were children."

Hermione blushed furiously, "I…"

Narcissa huffed, "This is nonsense. Surely Draco can settle this. Draco, dear—"

It was then that they all realized he was already gone.

x-x-x

Hermione had never in her life been more thankful for Grimmauld Place. The thought of staying at the Manor… with Draco just down the hall…

No. No, she couldn't let her thoughts go there lest she never return.

"Are you sure you don't mind?" She asked rather sheepishly. "Narcissa said she could send a house-elf over with my things later but if it's too much—"

Blaise chuckled as he stood from the table, ruffling Harry's impossible hair affectionately, "Of course not. You know we'd do just about anything for you. Besides, it would be nice to see Drake when he isn't on the brink of death."

"Right, of course. Well I really appreciate it, Blaise. And Harry, for letting me stay here until I can find a flat."

The two boys exchanged a significant look before Blaise simply chuckled and took off for the Floo, shaking his head.

Harry gestured for her to sit so she did, "So how are you, 'Mione? I heard the end of the trial was… intense."

"You could say that," she sighed. "The Veritaserum forced me to admit the truth in front of him and his parents, though I would have preferred to swallow my own tongue."

"Why? Malfoy and Narcissa already knew. What difference did it make at that point?"

"He doesn't want me, Harry," Hermione whispered into the tea he'd handed her. "I didn't want to bring it up ever again."

"How do you know for sure? I'm telling you 'Mione, seeing you two go at it at Hogwarts…"

"You didn't see his face when I told him. You did see how… how disgusted and terrified he was. It was like he was being cursed all over again."

Harry's eyes were affectionate and warm as he reached for her hand, "Soulmates aren't a curse, 'Mione. I promise you that. They may be unexpected and surprising, but never a curse."

The image of his horrified expression flashed across her mind again and she dropped her head into her hands. Maybe if she asked her friends nicely, they would crack her chest open and remove her traitorous heart. At this point, she was fairly certain that would hurt less than the reality of her own soulmate's blatant rejection. Her fingers slid into her curls and tugged tightly. _Fuck_, it just hurt so much. In the courtroom, she'd just wanted him. Nothing else. Just him - wrapped around her like a security blanket.

_Just once_, her mind had whispered. _Just touch him once and see how it feels._

But this was Malfoy, the boy who'd hated her simply for existing, her entire life. He never failed to tell her how plain and ugly she was, how annoyingly swotty, how irritatingly bookish. He never failed to remind her just what he thought of her. No, she would be willing to bet he'd hex off his own bollocks before letting her voluntarily touch him.

Another wave of pain rocked her.

Why couldn't she have been given a random soulmate? Someone she didn't know? Gods, that would have been so much easier. But even before the Ministry tampered with the water, Hermione had known the truth. Harry forced her to. She knew that her reasons for desperately wanting to save him and his father were not completely altruistic.

She'd been watching him for a long time.

She'd been hoping for a long time.

She'd been instigating interactions with him for a long time.

And it took Harry pointing it out for her to realize why.

Hermione sighed, pushing the hurt and pain away. _Just for a little while_, she told herself. _You can feel it all when you have the strength for tighter Occlumency again. When he won't be able to feel it._

"I'm going to go get something for dinner," she told Harry, pushing back from the table and wrapping her beaded bag around her wrist. "Takeaway from that pub down the street okay?"

"Sure. Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, it's alright. I think I'd like some time to clear my head. It's been pretty clouded for the past two years after all."

Harry gave her a lopsided smile, "Yeah but you did it, though. Just like you always said you would."

"Yes," she said softly, unable to stop herself from smiling back, "_we_ did."

x-x-x

It was half past one in the morning when a wispy corporeal dragon swam into the library to where Hermione was halfheartedly reading a book about… something or other and she nearly tore the page she was turning when she realized why the shape looked so familiar. It matched the mark on her arm.

The dragon opened its mouth and Draco's smooth, aristocratic voice came out, "Please come out. I'd like to speak with you."

She felt her heart leap rather suddenly into her throat. He was here… and he wanted to talk. Hermione tamped down on her emotions quickly - she would not dare let herself hope. Hope could be crushing. She straightened her clothes (still the same ones from the trial, so sue her) before setting down her book and making her way down the hall and out the front door.

He was waiting for her at the bottom of the steps.

Hermione descended the stairs and stopped only when she broke through the wards surrounding the dilapidated house. It took a very long time for him to look at her but when his molten silver eyes caught hers, she nearly collapsed.

Yes. Her soulmate. Her other half. He was it, there was no question. She could feel it right down to her bones.

"I didn't get a chance to thank you before," Draco began quietly, not quite as calm and assured as she remembered from school. "Please don't mistake my urgency to return home for ungratefulness. I… I will never be able to repay what you've done for us. For saving myself and my parents and… and for your discretion about my trip to St. Mungo's."

That pissed off lion within her came roaring to life at the memory of the injuries she'd found… with one in particular. The words were out before she could stop them, "Would you like me to kill him for you?"

His eyes snapped up to hers.

Hermione immediately began to backpedal, horrified, "I… I don't know why I said that. I-I'm sorry."

Draco surveyed her for a moment, "Yes you do. We both know why you said it."

The tension, the magic, the _fire_ sparked between them so intensely it was nearly tangible. Every part of her was screaming for him, begging for her to touch him. The deepest depths of her soul were clawing towards him, desperate and aching.

But she didn't move and neither did he.

"Do you feel it?" He asked softly, never taking his eyes from her.

She nodded.

Draco took a single step forward, the scent of his expensive cologne assaulting her and flooding her with Fiendfyre, "I want you, Granger."

Hermione shivered, unable to look away, "I think it's fairly obvious that I want you, too."

He frowned, warring expressions flitting across his face as he looked down from where he towered over her, "I… so much of this confuses me. Part of me wants it, wants _you_ and all you represent for me but… the other part doesn't want to have my life dictated for me anymore."

"Draco—"

And then he was kissing her. Not touching her anywhere other than her lips, but kissing her nonetheless. It was tentative at first… seeking. Shy, perhaps. But then she grasped his face and something broke. In seconds Draco had her shoved against the grating bricks of 11 Grimmauld, his mouth devouring hers as if it were the end of days. His long, slender hands dragged tortuously up and down her body, memorizing every line and every curve. She whimpered and melted into him, complete putty in his hands. He tore at her shirt until it ripped open and clawed at her skirt until it was bunched around her hips.

"Draco," Hermione gasped when he cupped her through her suddenly very damp knickers. "Draco… _fuck_…"

"Mine," he growled against her neck, the voice not wholly his but not entirely foreign either. It was rougher, deeper. "_Mine_."

Something about his possessive declaration was like a cold bucket of water to her. She wasn't his, despite how badly she wanted to be. He didn't want this; he'd told her that more than once. As much as it hurt, despite the fact that it felt like she was tearing out her own heart as she did it, Hermione gently but firmly pushed him back.

It took all of ten 10 seconds for him to come back to himself once they were separated. Draco looked up at her torn shirt, exposed chest, and bunched skirt; at her wild curls, flushed cheeks, and swollen lips.

He looked utterly despondent and her heart broke a little more.

"I'm sorry," he choked, stumbling back from her further. "I just… had to know."

He looked so lost, so broken - so like the horribly abused prisoner from only a few days ago that Hermione truly felt that she couldn't be angry with him. Of course he was lost. Of course he was confused. He'd just spent two years in Azkaban, certain he would die there, only to be rescued and told he had a soulmate - who was also his school-time rival - all in one fell swoop. He'd be released from one prison only to be forced into another. Quite honestly, he was handling all of this better than she would have been, were the roles reversed.

Draco scrubbed his hands over his mouth and she could see that they were shaking, "I don't know what to do. Granger, tell me what to do."

Hermione stepped forward, drawing on the infamous Gryffindor bravery that she wasn't' always sure she possessed. There was nothing for it. It was time to let him go to figure things out on his own. "I think you need time to figure out what you want to do with your freedom."

"I don't know what to do now," he admitted fearfully. "For fuck's sake, a week ago I was prepared to die in Azkaban and now I'm free and we… we're soulmates. You and me. Of all the people in the world it could have been, it's _us._"

"You have the mark?"

He nodded, quickly unbuttoning his shirt and shrugging the material until it fell to his elbow. Draco turned and presented his back to her - a soulmark on his shoulder identical to the one on her arm, "A dragon and a female lion."

She took another step closer, fingers barely brushing the mark that she recognized so well. He flinched at her touch so, with no small amount of disappointment, Hermione pulled his shirt back to it's proper place on his shoulders, "You have your life back, Draco. The only thing you have to do is decide what comes next."

Once his shirt was fastened, the boy turned back to face her. Gods, was he always this beautiful? He was certainly much thinner than he should be and there were still bruises marring his creamy skin and shadows hanging below his molten eyes, but she'd be damned if he wasn't the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

Was it true? Or was it just the soulmate thing?

Hermione thought back to Hogwarts, to all their fights and arguments. To the sneers and the sideways glances and…

Yes, it was true. She'd thought he was beautiful long before he was her soulmate.

"You're staring," Draco whispered, completely still.

"I know, but so are you."

"I want to hate you, but… something won't let me," he cupped her cheek with furrowed brows. "I try to feel the way I used to and I can't. What is this, Granger? Did I lose my mind in there?"

Her cheek burned from his touch, "No. Things are just different now; _you're_ different now."

"I don't like it. It feels like they stole pieces of me, like they stripped away who I am."

She swallowed a lump of emotion at the haunted agony in his eyes, "You're free now, Draco. You have all the time in the world to find yourself again."

He gazed at her face for a very, very long time and if any muggles had passed by, they would have thought them both quite odd indeed - just staring at each other under the light of the moon as he ran his thumb across the curve of her cheek. His hand suddenly fell away, expression shuttered, and she already knew what he was going to say before he said it.

"You're right - I need time to figure everything out and I don't know how to deal with this thing between us right now. It doesn't make sense and I was just trapped in Azkaban for two years, convinced I'd never see the sun again. I just… I'm a fucking mess and I need time. Is that… okay?"

Hermione managed a small, sad smile, "Of course, Draco. I would never have you simply trade one shackle for another. But... I'd be lying if I said I'm not hoping you'll come back someday."

He looked devastated and conflicted all at once, "Granger, I can't promise—"

"I know," she said quickly. "I know. It's okay. Just do what you need to do, alright? And please make an effort to care for yourself - your mother has been so worried about you."

"Why does this feel like a goodbye?"

_Occlude. _Hermione commanded herself when she felt her control slipping. _Occlude, gods damn you! Don't be selfish. He needs this. He needs space. Give him what he needs._

"It's a goodbye for now," Hermione waved her hand, fixing her clothing and hair in seconds with a simple non-verbal spell. "Just do what you need to for you."

Draco almost took a step towards her before thinking better of it. He shoved his hands into his pockets and nodded, "You'll be okay, though? This… this connection won't hurt you?"

He was leaving. He was actually leaving and already everything inside of her felt like it was being corroded with acid but she knew that he needed to heal, to make his own choices and his own path. Wasn't that what she'd fought so hard for?

So instead of clinging to him and begging him to stay, to give her - _them _\- a chance, Hermione smiled, "I'll be fine, Draco. I made it this far on my own, you know."

He cracked a small, genuine smile of his own before leaning down and brushing his lips against hers once more in a chaste but appreciative kiss. "Thank you for saving my life, Granger. I will never forget what you did for us. And… I hope to see you again someday."

Hermione remained there, eyes closed and teetering on the edge of oblivion, long after the loud _CRACK! _of Apparition signaled his departure.

He was gone. He was gone and she didn't honestly know if she'd ever speak to him again. Didn't know if there would ever be a chance. Hermione's breathing quickened as she wrapped her arms around herself. Gone. Gone. _Gone._ Her soul was screaming with betrayal, with pain. _He was so close! _It screamed at her. _He was so close and you let him slip away! _Her hands trembled. Her vision clouded. Her heart shattered. Over and over again - tremble, cloud, shatter. Lather, rinse, repeat.

Somehow, she made it all the way to her room on the third floor to slump against the sagging bed; it was completely silent other than the ticking of some ancient clock they had never quite been able to locate and the sound of her slow, even breathing. She counted the cracks in the ceiling, matching them up with the cracks in her heart for hours until the dim light of down began creeping past the grimy windowpane.

There was a familiar knock on the bedroom door, signaling that the bathroom was open for her to shower. Hermione sat up and scrubbed at her tired face with equally weary hands. Work was going to be hell with no sleep, no doubt about it, but it had to be done. She summoned a random skirt and blouse from the closet before trudging to the dresser to find a clean pair of knickers. The old, fraying newspaper clipping detailing the Malfoy's sentencing sat next to a photo of her, Harry, and Blaise atop the bureau. Hermione crumpled the article in her fist, pushed the top drawer shut, and tossed the ball of paper into the bin next to her door.

She had done exactly what she'd set out to do. The Malfoy's were free. They were safe and wealthy and in possession of their wands.

She had done exactly what she'd set out to do.

So, why did the victory feel like grasping at sand?


	4. Chapter 4

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: J.K. Rowling is the sole owner of HP. I'm just playing around.**

* * *

**-2 months later-**

He sensed her before he even saw her.

Draco was just leaving a posh, overly snobby restaurant in Diagon Alley where he'd just finished dinner with Blaise when every single muscle in his body tensed and he froze in his tracks.

_Hermione_.

Steely gray eyes flickered around the occupants of the Alley, quickly scanning their faces to discern where she was. He could feel her, could almost hear her breathing. He knew she was close, his inner dragon - soul, patronus, whatever the hell you wanted to call it - was nearly clawing at his skin to get to her.

And there she was- standing outside of Flourish & Blotts deep in conversation with the notoriously odd Luna Lovegood, clad in muggle jeans and a plain gold jumper. She laughed at something Lovegood said and his breath caught in his chest. As if hearing it, she looked up - right at him.

No matter how hard he tried, Draco couldn't look away from her. The moonlight left glittering diamonds in her hair and cast her dark skin in an almost ethereal glow, her warm cinnamon eyes alight at his expression. He knew now that it would be so easy to give in, to indulge in her with gluttony... but Draco also knew without a doubt that Hermione Granger had the potential to be his undoing. And he wasn't sure he wanted to be undone just yet.

Not when he still had so much work to do.

He turned on the spot and Disapparated.

x-x-x

Time passes, even when you'd rather it didn't.

Hermione warded the heavy gold velvet curtains adorning her bedroom windows and curled further into the duvet. After what seemed like years (and wasn't that a little too close to the truth) she finally had a day off. Blaise and Harry had just left after helping her unpack her things in her new flat and now she could, mercifully, be alone to deal with the unchecked emotions pounding into her from her soulmate.

He didn't use Occlumency like she did - therefore, she felt it all.

Some days were worse than others, but today was especially painful. Blaise had mentioned a Mind Healer some time ago; this must be another session. While he was certainly glad he was getting help, she did sort of wish that he knew how to block their emotional connection. Some days she couldn't even get out of bed.

It hurt even more to know that Draco was in such pain and there was nothing she could do to help because she had promised him his space.

Every single cell in Hermione's body was searing, battering against her skin to try and get to him. _Protect him!_ They screamed. _He's hurt, protect him! Help him! He needs you!_

No. No he didn't need her. He needed time to heal.

She would keep her promise.

"Hermione, I forgot my—"

Blaise stopped at the sight of her curled in on herself in the dark. He knew all too well what that meant.

"Drake had another session with the Mind Healer today," he breathed in understanding, coming to sit next to her on the bed.

"I figured as much."

"Hermione, I really wish you'd let me—"

"Do it," she hissed, shivers wracking her body. "I don't give a shit. Just do it. _Please_. I can't take this anymore."

Blaise nodded and brushed her hair back from her face before he stood, "I'll go see Theo right away."

_Soon_. She told herself. _Hang on a little longer and soon, I won't have to feel this anymore._

Gods, she hoped Theo was as good as Blaise always said.

x-x-x

Once again, Draco Malfoy was in Hell.

Alright, so maybe it wasn't quite as bad as being locked away in Azkaban, but he was pretty damn sure it was close. He couldn't always feel her - her being Granger, of course - but during the brief moments throughout the day were he could…

Yeah, he was in Hell.

When he couldn't feel her emotions, it was almost easy to pretend that it had all just been a bad dream; that he didn't have a soulmate and that he hadn't been locked up for two years in, quite possibly, the world's worst prison with the world's most sadistic guards. It was almost easy to pretend that he was normal, that he was himself again, and start to pick up the pieces of his fractured life.

Almost.

He qualified it because when her emotions broke through whatever the hell she was doing to suppress them, the sheer force of her sadness, of her loneliness and dejection was nearly enough for him to say 'fuck it' and go running right back to her. It was nearly enough for him to fall to his knees, willingly ruin his expensively tailored slacks, and beg her forgiveness.

Again, _nearly_.

Draco wasn't stupid; he was probably depressed and traumatized and all around fucked up now, but he certainly hadn't lost his intelligence. He knew she was hurting because of him, because he left her standing there as he ran away. His soul was practically screaming it at him every chance it got. But really, what other choice did he have? On the outside, he was still his cool, collected self - the arrogant Slytherin Prince everyone knew from Hogwarts. Inside, he was drowning in chaos. His nightmares were vivid and made it near impossible to get any decent amount of rest and he _hated_ being touched, even by his parents and his friends. In the beginning, when he'd first come home, touch hadn't been such a problem but as time went on, he found himself unable to stomach it. He wasn't sure if his new aversion was due to Tibbs and his sick forms of punishment or if it was simply because he'd been bereft of human contact for two years, but either way it was there now. Even if someone brushed against him on accident he would freeze up and break out in a cold sweat.

But Granger...

When he had kissed her, when he had touched her… Gods, it was like his entire world had been set on fire. Everything was bright and vivid and _burning_. Merlin help him, he could _still _taste her on his tongue. Everything within him had ached to be closer until no one could tell where one started and the other ended. Since his release from Azkaban, he'd felt lost. The moment their lips touched, he felt found. With that irritating little know-it-all in his arms, Draco had never felt more right.

And that scared the living shit out of him.

So he ran.

After two years of having no other choice but to lie to himself, Draco had finally decided that he didn't want to anymore. So he had to, begrudgingly, admit to himself that yes - he _had_ ran away from her. He knew that she was strong and more than capable of helping him cope with his new issues, with the trauma left behind from the war and his imprisonment. He knew Granger was compassionate and kind and almost bursting at the seams with endless supplies of love and affection for almost everyone and everything. She would never have cracked under the weight of his demons. Instead, she would have been right there beside him - holding him up and helping him forward every step of the way.

He knew that.

And still, he'd run.

"And why do you think that is, Draco?"

His gray eyes flickered to the matronly witch across the room who was simply staring at him with a quizzical expression, dicta-quill happily scratching away on a piece of parchment near her right hand. Shockingly, there was no judgement in her eyes as she waited for an answer, only curiosity.

Draco crossed his arms over his chest, "Why what?"

"Why do you think you ran from her?"

He grit his teeth. Gods damned Mind Healers and their fucking Legilimency. Was he allowed no privacy anymore?

"Of course you're allowed your privacy, Draco. But you agreed to this, remember? In fact, I do believe you insisted on it."

How could he forget? He'd returned from abandoning that bloody angel Granger only to have a complete meltdown in the study… in front of his parents who had watched with unconcealed horror. His mother had wept as she held him and his father, though stony-faced to anyone else, was visibly shaken as well. When they couldn't get through to him, they'd sent for the only person in the world who could: Blaise.

It was still mortifying to remember that Blaise had carried him like a child to his room and held him close until there were no more tears left and he simply felt hollow. His friend never mocked him or teased him for his vulnerability. Instead, he opened up about his own situation.

_"When I first realized my soulmate was none other than our own Saint Potter, I fought it even harder than you're fighting this thing with Hermione," Blaise had admitted. "I vowed that I would never go near him again and that I would simply ignore it. Like Hermione said, it's not like any actual_ _binding magic was used. I was still free to do whatever I wanted with whoever I wanted."_

_Draco listened with rapt attention, though he'd never admit it._

_"I tried going on dates with other men and other women. I tried being intimate with them."_

_Draco cringed._

_His friend chuckled, "Bloody Potter was too damn noble to even try and stop me. Hermione told me that he knew what I was doing and that he had no intention of stopping me if that's what I needed to be happy. My happiness was all he wanted for me."_

_His heart ached; Granger had done the same thing by letting him go without so much as a flicker of disapproval._

_"If you want my opinion, I think those Gryffindors are far too self-sacrificing for their own good. I honestly believe that if it wasn't for me and Narcissa, Hermione would have worked herself to death trying to get you out of Azkaban."_

_"Blaise… I…"_

_He rested his cheek against the top of Draco's head, "My point is - I understand what you're going through with the soulmate thing, though admittedly I have had much longer to get used to the idea than you have. You guys have a rough history and it's not easy to just let that go, especially if you feel guilty as I suspect you do. I get it. Just… don't completely dismiss the idea until you give it a real chance. I was ready to live half a life simply out of sheer obstinacy but then I was forced to spend time with Harry since we worked with Hermione on your case and… Drake, I can't even explain how amazing he is. He's nothing like we always thought he was. It's not even the soulmate thing; I can separate that from my rational mind now. He really is just an almost unbelievably good person who's been dealt a shit hand in life. The fact that he's even still standing after everything he's been through is a testament to his character."_

_Nearly the exact same thing could be said of Granger and Draco was simply too drained to even deny it to himself._

_"I love him, Drake. He's it for me. The Ministry may have gone about this whole thing in a seriously fucked up way, but they got the potion right. We fit, like puzzle pieces."_

_"I don't need to know about Saint Potter's sex life, thank you very much," he attempted to sneer but it just came out as exhausted instead._

_"Make light of this all you want, but that won't make it go away. Hermione is the one, Drake. She came to terms with it a long time ago and after everything she's done for you, for me, the entire fucking world - that girl deserves a little happiness in her life. I'm not saying you have to be with her if you truly can't stand the thought, just… be nice to her. And if you can't do that, then stay away from her. Please. You're my best friend and like my brother but that girl is… she's more than family to me and I would kill for her. Please don't make me turn on you because I will if it comes down to it."_

_Draco fell back against the headboard of his opulent bed, "She really has sunk her claws into you, hasn't she?"_

_Blaise shrugged, "Someone has to look out for her. Harry doesn't have the time with his job and, seeing as I work in the same department as her, I'm the best person for the job. I just happen to have fallen under her spell somewhere along the way. She's a truly good person, Drake. Like, _good_ good. I didn't know people like her and Harry actually existed in this world but I'm honestly thankful that they do."_

_He sighed, running his pale hands through his hair, "So what am I supposed to do here, Blaise? I'm a fucking mess now. How can someone like me possibly be good for someone like her when I'm so fucked up?"_

_His friend shoved him, "Then get yourself together! Go see a Mind Healer and sort yourself out so you can function like a normal person again. Get your life back on track so you'll be able to actually make a rational decision about her. She'd wait for you forever, but Hermione doesn't deserve that. Go and get better so you can either be with her or let her go."_

_Draco didn't mention that the thought of letting her go, for good, made him nauseous and dizzy._

_"You're right, as usual," he sighed. "I just… I don't even know where to start."_

_"Mind Healer," Blaise repeated. "I'll set up an appointment for you with someone who specializes in Legilimency for Friday, okay?"_

_"Legilimency?"_

_"Are you telling me that the cold, aloof Draco Malfoy is going to openly spill his demons to a stranger?"_

_"Point taken," another wave of unchecked sadness and pain rocked him and it took everything in him not to flinch in front of his friend. "Alright. Set it up."_

"Blaise is a good influence on you, he seems like a good friend," the Mind Healer smiled. "So you don't feel good enough for her? That's why you ran?"

Draco rubbed at his temples irritably, "I don't know. Maybe."

"Draco, you know I prefer it when you actually talk to me. Legilimecy works but I can promise that actually talking to me will be cathartic for you."

His temper flared and he pounded a fist against the plush couch, glaring, "How can we be soulmates? It doesn't make sense. I was… I was _horrible _to her when we were in school. I wished death on her, called her a Mudblood almost every day for almost six years, and then _watched as my aunt tortured her_. She was almost close enough to touch my shoes and I didn't do a gods damned thing as she had that word carved into her arm. How the fucking hell am I her soulmate? IT MAKES NO SENSE!"

The Mind Healer was not perturbed by his outburst, "We've discussed this. People change. War does things to people that might not have ordinarily happened."

"But—"

She raised a hand to stop him, "I'm not saying that you don't have a lot to make up for. You certainly do. But she is more than willing to give you the chance and you are already working to make yourself better. I personally think just you being here with me is a very promising start."

Draco bit the inside of his cheek for a moment, not looking up from the floor, "…Yeah?"

"Yes, Draco. You are doing phenomenal and making wonderful progress. I know that you don't often open up to people so I can honestly say that these past few weeks have been very eye opening for me. You still have a long way to go, but you are much better than when I first saw you back in September. Tell me, do you still have nightmares? Are you still dependent on Dreamless Sleep?"

He thought for a moment, back to the last time he took Dreamless Sleep. The answer surprised even him, "The nightmares are still there but much less frequent, and I haven't taken Dreamless Sleep in a while."

"And what about touching? Can you stand for others to touch you now?"

"Only my mother and Blaise. Everyone else still… inspires the same reaction."

"See? Progress."

A flash of sharp, stabbing sadness swept over him and he pitched forward, gasping.

His therapist - a decidedly muggle word he'd learned from his friend - cocked her head, "Her emotions broke through again?"

He nodded, "She's… she feels devastated. Something is hurting her more than usual."

The woman thought for a moment, "Do you often get these flashes of her emotion while in our sessions, Draco?"

"At least once or twice each time, yes."

"Ah, well that explains it then. I would imagine these sessions are more painful for you than everyday life."

Draco ground his teeth. He was _still_ fucking up, _still_ hurting her even when he was just trying to put himself back together. Gods damn it, just one more way he didn't deserve her.

"Don't be too hard on yourself, Draco. She's a strong girl. She'll make it through - though it might be a good idea to brush up on your Occlumency just to make it a little easier for her."

He wasn't so certain of Granger's resilience anymore. If there was one thing he knew better than anyone else, it was that a person could only handle so much before they broke.

The Mind Healer tapped on her desk with her wand to dispense the dicta-quill, "Same time next week?"

He simply nodded, still brooding as he left the office but intent on finding the Occlumency books in the Malfoy library.

x-x-x

"Can you do it?"

Theodore Nott's dark eyes surveyed his friend for a moment before he finally answered, "I believe so."

"You _believe_ or you _know_?"

"Has the word of my Potions Mastery eluded you?" Theo rolled his eyes, "I _know_. Merlin Blaise, when did you get so touchy?"

"This is important," Blaise snapped. "Hermione's in pain and I need this as soon as you can brew it."

That caught his attention, "Granger? Why on earth would she be in need of a suppression potion like this?"

"It's not for her."

"Ah, I see…" The gears were already turning in his mind as the possibilities presented themselves. "So her soulmate doesn't reciprocate? How unfortunate."

"Please don't make me punch you, Nott. I really need both of your eyes intact so you can brew this potion."

He raised his hands in surrender, "I meant no harm. I just think it's interesting that someone out there doesn't think the world of our little war heroine. I was rather under the impression that most people thought the sun shined from her tight little—"

"Watch it," Blaise's hissed, his wand already at Theo's pale throat. "Drake seems to be the only exception where she's concerned."

Theo's dark eyes widened, "Drake… _Malfoy_?"

His friend scoffed, "How many other 'Drake's do we know, Nott?"

"Holy shit… Draco and Granger? How in the bloody hell did _that _happen? Merlin, and I thought you and Potter were bad."

"You can thank the Ministry," he lowered his wand. "Though I suspect even without their soul-magic tampering, it was only a matter of time before those two came together anyway."

"Yeah, and killed each other maybe."

Blaise looked genuinely amused, "After they were done shagging like rabbits, perhaps. _If_ they were ever done shagging like rabbits, more like. Gods, if they ever actually get together we are all going to need to strengthen our silencing charms, I'm sure."

Theo ran a hand through his perfectly styled chocolate hair, "Wow. I never would have guessed."

"Drake is as stubborn as ever though, which is why I'm here. He's getting better after his stint in Azkaban but it's still painful for him - which in turn means it's painful for Hermione. She uses Occlumency to protect him from what she's feeling most of the time but he has no defenses so she feels everything from him. Sometimes it nearly cripples her. I wanted to come to back in September when Drake was first released but Hermione insisted that she was okay. She kept saying that knowing how he was doing helped her deal with the fact that he couldn't handle the soulmate thing."

"So what changed?"

He sighed, "She finally hit her limit. She can't function with his pain and hers at the same time, it just incapacitates her. I need to give Drake this potion so she can have some relief for a while. Merlin knows that girl deserves a break after busting her arse for two years to free them."

Theo flicked his wand towards his desk and a piece of parchment and a quill came floating over, "I'll need to pick up a few things at Slug & Jiggers but I should be able to have something brewed in a few days. Does that work?"

"It's going to have to."

x-x-x

Narcissa and Lucius looked over the plans their son had presented, scratching out certain things and adding others, always nodding and consulting with each other first in soft whispers.

"Well?" Draco asked rather anxiously, though he did try to hide it. "What do you think? I mean, the Mind Healer thinks I've progressed enough that I can handle being productive again so…"

Lucius looked up from the parchment, "I think it could certainly work with a few minor adjustments. How many staff are you planning to take on?"

"Assuming this works at all, I would like to have at least Blaise and Theo. Blaise could handle the legal aspects and Theo could be the potioneer - he just received his Mastery last month. I would do the field work, of course."

"Considering what you're trying to accomplish here, don't you think it would be more prudent to have two legal consultants on the payroll?" His mother asked innocently - much _too_ innocently.

"Mother, please. We talked about this. I need time to get myself back on track before I can even consider—"

"Of course, of course!" Narcissa acquiesced with wide eyes. "I simply know how good Her-, ahem, Miss Granger is at her job and I just thought she would be a helpful addition to your business venture."

Lucius nodded in agreement, "Your mother has a point, Draco. If you truly desire to take on Curse Breaking, you are bound to have much more business than even you've projected here. There will be many legalities to be handled and while I have no doubt that Blaise is well-equipped for the job, having two Magical Law professionals on staff would be much better in the long-run. If you are half as successful as I believe you will be, Blaise will be working himself to the bone without someone to assist."

Draco ran a pale hand over his face. Why did it feel like everyone was conspiring against him? Okay, well maybe not _against_ him, but certainly but conspiring to push him and Granger together. "I really think…"

"Take some time to consider it," his mother cut in, her words earnest. "We've been invited to attend the Ministry's annual Christmas ball next month and I already accepted for all 3 of us. She will most certainly be there and if you decide working with her in a professional capacity is something you can handle, you can ask her then. If not, you can just pretend we never even mentioned it. Just give it some thought; please, Draco."

Just then, the Floo came roaring to life and Blaise stepped through with a grin already plastered on his ridiculously handsome face, "Well, well - if it isn't three of my favorite people all gathered in one place. How convenient."

"Hello Blaise," Lucius nodded cordially. "What can we do for you this evening? We were just finalizing some business plans with Draco."

His brows raised as he looked back at his friend, "You finally told them? Congratulations, man!" He pulled him into a tight hug. "I knew it would go well, didn't I tell you?"

Draco looked like he wanted to punch him but, thankfully, didn't.

"Have you come for dinner, Blaise dear?" Narcissa asked, gliding over to plant a delicate kiss on his dark cheek. "I thought you had plans with Harry and Miss Granger this evening?"

No one noticed how, at the mention of her name, Draco flinched just a little.

"I do, I just wanted to drop something off to Drake."

Draco's pale brow rose in interest, "Oh? Do tell."

Blaise stuck a hand into the pocket of his travelling robes and pulled out a small, square glass bottle filled with shimmering canary yellow liquid. He held it out to his friend, "I wanted to give you this."

The three Malfoy's looked at the potion with obvious confusion but Narcissa was the first to speak, "What is it?"

"Theo made it. It's an emotional suppression potion, meant to block the connection you share with Hermione. It's not permanent or anything, but it will work for as long as you take it."

No one moved. Hell, they hardly even breathed.

Lucius broke the silence after an age, "And… why does he need something like that?"

"She's hurting, isn't she?" Narcissa whispered, eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Our darling girl is hurting."

Draco was still frozen staring at the potion bottle in his hand.

"She is," Blaise admitted a little guiltily. "She uses Occlumency to keep most of her emotions from Drake but…"

"She can feel all of mine," he finished quietly. He'd be practicing his Occlumency but knew it wasn't up to scratch just yet.

"Yes. She can."

"It's been almost two months," Lucius came to stand with the small group. "What has changed for her?"

Draco's stomach twisted uncomfortably. _Had _something changed? Had she finally had enough? He knew this was hard on her and he was sorry every day, but that didn't mean he was ready to face it. He still needed time. He needed time to get his life in order before he could even think of approaching her. Throughout his life, he'd fucked up a lot and he wanted to do things right this time around. Even if that meant denying them both what they wanted so badly.

For now.

"She just can't handle it anymore. I tried to get her to agree to this potion back in September but she fought it. She told me when she finally couldn't take anymore, she'd let me know. Three days ago, she agreed to let me ask Theo."

Three days ago, Draco had been with his Mind Healer. He knew it.

"Please tell me she's alright," Narcissa clutched Blaise's arm. "She's such a delicate little thing."

Blaise snorted, "Delicate? Trust me, Hermione Granger is the furthest thing from it. She just needs a little help every now and then as she tends to carry the world on her shoulders."

"Thank the Gods she has you and Harry, then."

_She has me._ He snarled internally. _She doesn't need anyone else. She has_ me._ She is _mine_._

That wasn't quite true though, was it? He'd abandoned her.

But he had to in order to heal himself, right?

Right?

_Right?_

Sometimes he didn't know anymore.

Draco uncorked the bottle and downed the potion - which to his… horror? Pleasure? Either way, it smelled like her; like roses and apples.

His heart ached.

Fuck.

x-x-x

Draco was in the study again reviewing the floorplans he intended to give to the magical architect with Blaise, two weeks later, when Harry Potter's frantic face appeared in the Floo, "Blaise, Draco - Hermione's collapsed! She's been taken to St. Mungo's! They won't let me leave the Ministry yet, there was another Dark Wizard sighting so I've been called out to the field."

Both men were up so fast the parchments and blueprints scattered about the floor but Blaise reached the pot of Floo powder first, "Be safe, Harry. We'll go to St. Mungo's, don't worry."

In an instant, Harry's face was gone and the two Slytherins were clambering through the emerald flames.

Floo travel may be close in quickness to Apparition but it felt like an eternity as the vice tightened around Draco's heart. He hadn't felt anything, _anything_ from her in nearly a week. It had helped him to focus gaining better control of his Occlumency shields and getting his business going but now the guilt was gnawing away at him. What if she was hurt? What if… no. _No_. He wasn't going to think like that, that was dangerous.

_She needed you_. That thing within him whispered tauntingly. _She needed you and you weren't there._

_So I'm a fuck up, what else is new?_ He snarled right back. Fight it all he wanted, deep down he still wanted her. He still dreamt of her. Her still found his thoughts slipping back to her cinnamon eyes and the insanity of her messy curls and the silkiness of her lips. He may not be feeling her emotions lately, but he was more aware of his own than ever before.

For months he'd been denying it all. Denying she was his soulmate, denying he cared about her, denying she meant anything to him.

And then they stepped through the Floo at St. Mungo's and he was unsure.

Maybe… maybe he did care. If something happened to her and he wasn't there… yes. Yes, perhaps he did care after all.

And then they stepped through the door to her private room and he _knew_.

He loved her.

He suspected that he had for a very long time but only now had the emotional maturity to recognize it.

Her dusky bronze skin was a stark but lovely contrast to the crisp snow white hospital linens on the bed and her tight, untamable mahogany curls spread out around her head like the most beautiful halo. Draco moved closer to the bed in awe; had she always looked like this? Or had he simply been blinded by prejudice and blood purity and war and Azkaban?

He reached for her and dragged the pads of his fingers across the high angle of her cheekbone. Her skin was like silk, the same as her lips had been.

The truth struck him like a stunner to the chest. Merlin almighty, he would start wars for this woman. He would _go_ to war for this woman. He would kill every single person who ever dared to harm this woman.

He would do anything, _be_ anything, for this woman.

Gods above, he wanted to fight it but he just… he couldn't.

Blaise's amused but hushed voice cut through his musing, "Nice to see you're finally on board."

Draco looked up at his friend in disbelief, "Is that what it's like for you? With Potter?"

He nodded, "Exactly the same. The same, I imagine, as it is for Hermione when she looks at you."

She saw him like this? She saw him the way he saw her? How?

Draco hadn't realized he'd spoken his last question aloud until Blaise answered him, "Because that's how it's meant to be."

_Meant to be…_

The Healer swept into the room then, casting diagnostic charms over Granger's - _Hermione's _\- chest. When the runes glowed a bright green, she nodded and scribbled something on her chart, "She will be just fine. Just needs some rest and food I suspect."

"She worked herself until she collapsed again, didn't she?" Blaise asked the Healer, his voice tight even as his eyes were soft on Hermione's face.

She nodded, "Poor thing. She always was such a hard worker - I'd just hoped the end of the war would have given her some peace."

Draco frowned, tearing his eyes away from the goddess in the hospital bed, "What do you mean?"

The Healer looked surprised, "Oh, didn't you know? She volunteered here after the war to help when we were short on Healers. Worked herself day and night until she quite literally passed out from exhaustion. I can see that some things, unfortunately, do not change. You will look after her once she returns to work, won't you?"

Blaise nodded, "Of course I will. She refuses to ask for help but I'll put health monitoring charms on her if I have to."

"Good," the Healer smiled. "We want to keep her overnight to make sure she gets enough rest and nutritional potions - also of her devising by the way - but she should be released in the morning. Have a pleasant evening, gentlemen."

When they were alone again, Draco looked from Hermione to his friend, his voice a near-whisper, "How can someone like her possibly be meant for someone like me?"

Blaise adjusted her blankets with delicate care, "Sometimes it's not about what we deserve, but what we need."

That was the first explanation that ever made sense to him. Draco sure as shit didn't deserve her, but there wasn't a doubt in his mind that he needed her. Yes, she was _exactly_ what he needed.

One month.

He could wait one more month.

x-x-x

Hermione awoke in an unfamiliar room in St. Mungo's. Considering what she remembered just before ending up here, it was safe to assume she collapsed again. Merlin, Blaise was going to kill her when he found out—

Cologne.

Expensive, aristocratic cologne lingered in the air.

Her pulse quickened and her cheek tingled. She reached up to gently prod it with her fingers.

Draco had been here.

* * *

*I have started a Pinterest board for this story so you can see what everyone looks like. **www dot pinterest dot com / paigepecze / roller-coaster-a-dramione-fanfiction /** (no spaces)*


	5. Chapter 5

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: J.K. Rowling is the sole owner of HP. I'm just playing around.**

* * *

**-2 weeks later-**

"What, no irritating Gryffindors tonight? I was under the impression that you had a standing appointment with them every Saturday evening."

Blaise rolled his eyes, adjusting his tie in the mirror, "And miss out on your charming personality and cuddly demeanor? Never."

Draco did not miss the twinge of unease that niggled at his brain. He crossed his arms over his chest as his friend finished checking his appearance in the mirror and feigned indifference by observing his pristine manicure, "Not that I care, but why _are_ you imposing on my time tonight? Where is the new and improved Dunderhead Duo?"

His friend snorted, "We don't have to go to dinner if you're really that opposed. I just thought that you might want to get out of the house."

His stomach roiled and his throat constricted, "And why would you think that?"

Blaise cleared his throat, very pointedly _not_ meeting Draco's curious gaze through the reflective glass, "I'm surprised Narcissa hasn't told you."

Draco's unease was now full-blown panic. He didn't even care that his carefully crafted indifferent façade had disappeared, "Told me what?"

"That Hermione has a date."

When he was 9, Draco had woken in a cold sweat from a nightmare and as a result, apparently forgot that they owned many, many house elves. In an attempt to calm himself, he had stumbled through the Manor - half asleep and in the dark - to the kitchen in order to procure some warm milk and maybe a Calming Draught. He'd made it almost the entire way without incident until, just before reaching the kitchen, he mis-stepped in the darkness (thinking there was one more stair at the bottom than there actually was) and felt his heart drop into his stomach as he stumbled and lost his balance. That very same feeling, where his heart had taken up residence in his stomach despite trying to escape from his chest, was exactly what he was feeling now.

Granger - _Hermione _\- had a date.

Hermione had a date with someone.

Hermione had a date with someone who wasn't him.

Hermione had a date with someone who wasn't him and his own _fucking mother_ knew about it.

"Drake? …You okay?"

No. No, he most certainly was _not_ okay. His soulmate, _his woman_, was going on a date with someone else. The woman meant for him, the one who complemented him like a matching puzzle piece, was going on a date _with someone else_. What fucking part of this was supposed to be okay? What part of this was he supposed to be okay with? He wanted to run to her and hex the hell out of her and then take her to his bed and let her know in no uncertain terms that she was to _never, ever, ever_ go on a date with anyone other than him ever again. He wanted to remind her what she was waiting for, but conversely, he also wanted to punish her for daring to see anyone else. He wanted to love her and he wanted to hate her.

It was quite the conundrum and, with his pulse (and something else seriously pissed off) roaring in his ears, it was rather hard to focus on anything at all.

He was going to claim her. He was going to kill her.

Fucking shit, it was all so confusing. _He_ left _her._ Not only that, but he distinctly remembered leaving her without promising anything would ever become of them. He distinctly remembered doing that on purpose, just in case. Surely, Hermione was free to see anyone she wished. After all, there was no actual binding magic that tied them together…

But that didn't make her any less _his_.

_You did this_. He reminded himself harshly. _You pushed her away. You gave her nothing to hold on to, no semblance of hope for anything with you. She isn't obligated to wait for you to get your fucking life together._

But that didn't mean he didn't want her to.

It took every ounce of willpower he had, but Draco summoned it all and schooled his face into a neutral expression. You know, as if his heart wasn't currently breaking into a million tiny pieces at the thought of Hermione, _his_ Hermione, with her hands on someone else…

Enough.

"Ah. Well good for her," Draco said flippantly. "Where are we going for dinner? I'm famished."

Blaise was clearly not convinced but he didn't call him on it, "Some place in London Narcissa recommended. The view is supposed to be fantastic."

"Lovely. Shall we?"

x-x-x

The restaurant was classy and posh and the epitome of everything a Malfoy looked for in a ridiculously expensive establishment - overpriced, underwhelming shit food included. But the most appealing feature of the restaurant by far was, indeed, the view.

And what an intriguing, nauseating, infuriating view it was.

Hermione and her _date_ (he sneered internally at even deigning to call the ridiculously handsome wizard such a thing) were seated across the restaurant from he and Blaise, laughing and chatting away as if he wasn't watching and feeling his world crumbling around him. How dare they? How dare Hermione try to replace him? How dare that… that… that fucking _male model _with his fucking perfect face and perfect manners and perfect smile try to sway his witch away from him? _How dare they_?

Two months away from Azkaban may be improving his physical and mental health by leaps and bounds, but Draco was still painfully aware of how far he had to go. He was still far too thin and monumentally fucked up. He still didn't fill out his clothes the way he had before and he still flinched is someone moved too quickly. He no longer contemplated suicide as he had in his cell, but he still wondered if the effort for his new life was worth it.

Well, he wondered that until he saw Hermione and then he realized that he would walk through the fires of Hell, barefoot and covered in an exceedingly flammable potion, if it meant reaching her.

She laughed at something the prick said again and he stabbed his filet with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm.

Draco was now almost certain that his mother had orchestrated this entire thing.

"Something the matter?" Blaise asked cheekily, popping another shrimp between his lips.

"Of course not," Draco hissed through clenched teeth. "Just contemplating fifteen different muggle ways to murder someone with nothing more than my dinnerware."

"So, the usual then."

"My mother did this on purpose, didn't she? To try and push me into making a decision about… about…" He speared a piece of defenseless broccoli. "She's responsible for this travesty, isn't she?"

"Travesty?" Blaise quickly glanced across the restaurant before turning back to his friend. "Seems like she's having a wonderful time, to me. Your mother always has been a good matchmaker."

"The only match that fucking prick will be making tonight is a match with my steak knife."

He simply shrugged, munching away on another shrimp, "Hermione's free to do as she wants. You haven't exactly given her a reason to think otherwise."

Draco's cool façade broke and his flatware clattered against his plate, "She is my _soulmate_. She wears _my fucking mark_."

"And yet, you haven't spoken to her since the day she saved your life and you told her that you couldn't promise her anything."

Blaise was right but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it, "Malfoy's are notoriously possessive."

His friend's gaze was cutting, "Luckily, Hermione isn't a possession - she's a person with thoughts and feelings. Perhaps you should remember that before touting your possessive bullshit to me."

"She understands why I left. She understands that I needed time to get my shit together!"

"So that means she should put her life on hold for you?"

"I…"

"Would you have put yours on hold for her, had the roles been reversed?"

"Well..."

"Let me save you the trouble - no, you wouldn't have. Do you know why? Because Malfoy's are also notoriously stubborn and self-serving. Were the positions reversed, had you been the hero and she the villain, you would have let her rot away in Azkaban, soulmate or not, because of things she'd done to you. You would have held a grudge and let her suffer for it. Forget being understanding and selfless enough to let her go, to have time and space to heal, you would never have even tried to save her from prison in the first place. So, again, save your jealous bullshit for someone who doesn't know you quite so well."

Draco could feel the rage simmering just below the surface, partly because Blaise was being an arsehole and partly because he knew his friend was right and it pissed him off. He already knew he was a seriously flawed person with a skewed moral compass, but he didn't appreciate it being thrown in his face like that. His fist flexed against the tablecloth, "For someone who claims to be my best friend, you're doing a pretty shit job. All those Gryffindors are softening you, Zabini."

Again, Blaise shrugged and sipped his wine, completely unmoved, "You seem to forget that I'm your best friend _because_ I'm the only one who was never afraid to tell you the truth, even when you didn't want to hear it. Don't blame my Gryffindors for your own shortcomings."

The words were like acid on his tongue, "I wasn't aware that she was considered _yours_."

"Until you make up your mind, she is. That girl is entirely too Gryffindor for her own good and she needs a Slytherin to look out for her. Harry is like her brother, bless his heart, but he doesn't have the balls to stand up to her. I, on the other hand, am not afraid to piss her off if it's in her own best interest. Just like I'm not afraid of you."

Draco's gray eyes flickered across the restaurant again and he found himself unable to look away from her. Her skin glowed golden in the candlelight and her riotous curls tumbled around her face in silky ringlets. She typically didn't wear makeup but tonight, her eyes were sooty and rimmed with black and he'd swear on his wand that he could see her eyelashes from here. The muted indigo dress clung to her curves and accentuated her already perfect frame in all the right places, enough to make his mouth water and his chest tight.

She was resplendent… heavenly… seraphic.

Who _wouldn't_ want her? It was impossible; it defied all logic.

"She'd understand, you know."

Draco's eyes snapped back to his friend, "What?"

"Hermione," Blaise clarified. "She'd understand that you still have issues to work through. She'd do everything she could to help you."

His gaze slipped again, "And you're telling me this because…?"

Blaise snapped his fingers in front of Draco's face until he got his attention, "I'm telling you this because you're staring at her as if she's the last treacle tart on the planet and you're starving to death."

Draco had the wherewithal to scoff, "Hardly. I just think she looks nice. The dress and eyeliner is a nice change from her typically asexual—"

"_Drake_," Blaise hissed, "just stop. _Stop_. It's just me here, man. Who is the show for?"

"I don't know what—"

He threw his hands up in exasperation, "It's not a crime to love her! It's not a crime to want to be with her! Merlin have fucking mercy, why are you fighting this so hard? Why are you denying what literally everyone else can see?"

Draco found his fingers trembling ever so slightly. He swallowed thickly, not looking up from the table, "It feels wrong."

"Why? Because you two used to have some stupid rivalry based on the idiotic ideals you were raised with? I'm telling you, she moved past all that a long time ago."

"No," he shook his head, voice quiet. "It feels wrong because she's… I'm… no. No. Women like her don't end up with men like me, Blaise. Life just doesn't work that way."

"Apparently it does because you two are—"

The mask slipped away and Draco's desperation was painfully apparent, "I can still hear them. The guards. I can still hear them telling me I'm worthless and that even a life sentence in Azkaban was more than I deserved. I can still feel the Dementors sucking away at my sanity and forcing me to relive every horrible, fucked up thing I've ever said or done. They forced me to re-watch her being tortured a thousand times. They forced me to remember every slur, every insult I ever spat at her. Sometimes, the memory blurred and _I_ was the one with my wand pointed at her. Sometimes _I_ was the one carving into her arm and branding her for the rest of her life. The idea of soulmates is all cuddly and romantic when you're sane and normal, but I'm irrevocably fucked up now. I will probably never be completely back to the way I was… I'll probably always have nightmares and probably never be able to completely let go of Azkaban and the war." He ran a shaking hand over his mouth. "How can I ask her to be a part of that? How can I expect her to want a relationship when even the idea of sex makes nearly sends me catatonic? Don't get me wrong, the Mind Healer has been immensely helpful but I'm still a long way from normal. Hermione has been through enough, Blaise. She deserves someone who—"

Blaise cut him off by taking his pale fist in his dark hand. His sienna eyes were glossy and his voice was thick, but his words were sharp and strong, "Sometimes it's not about what we deserve, but what we need."

"You've told me that already."

"And yet you still aren't listening. I get where you're coming from and you have some valid fears, but that isn't the point. The Mind Healer is a necessary step, I agree, but I also think you're missing out on a fairly large piece of the equation," Blaise tightened his grip on Draco's fist. "She is your other half, Drake. Her soul was made to complement yours, and vice versa. If you're finding it difficult to heal certain parts of yourself that are still broken, don't you think it might be because you weren't meant to do it on your own?"

As much as he hated it when others were right, as much as he hated looking the fool, Draco had to admit that his friend was making a very compelling argument.

_And wouldn't it be nice to have someone to lean on? Someone who actually cared about your well-being and wasn't being paid to treat you? Wouldn't it be nice to have someone to share the burden, the scars?_

Draco's felt the moment her eyes found their table and looked up to see that Hermione was staring directly at him, clearly shocked at his presence. Before this conversation with Blaise, he would have looked away and pretended not to care. Now, he couldn't look away.

Was she truly the key? Was the answer to finding himself again really so simple?

Before he could decide, she was approaching them.

Before he could look away, she was standing between them.

"What a nice surprise," Hermione smiled a little nervously at the pair of Slytherins. "I didn't expect to see anyone I knew here tonight."

Blaise stood and pressed his lips to her cheek, "You know Narcissa- she can never resist bragging about her favorite new restaurants. After the way she raved over the food, Draco insisted we try it. I hadn't realized this was where you'd be tonight, otherwise we would have gone somewhere else."

She blushed and Draco started to sweat, "Nonsense! You two are more than welcome to go anywhere you like. I'm really only here as a favor to Narcissa anyway."

"Oh? Do tell how that one came about."

"Well, she said she had a family friend who needed some legal advice and after her generous hospitality after the past few years, I just couldn't say no."

"Ah," Blaise nodded much too innocently. "My mistake. I was under the impression it was a date. Harry and I have been shamelessly gossiping about it behind you back, you know."

Hermione looked horrified, "A… a _date_? You thought I was coming on a _date_?" Her warm cinnamon eyes flicked to Draco for a millisecond before returning to Blaise. "And here I thought you actually knew me!"

He chuckled, "Serves me right for assuming, I suppose. You know the muggle saying, assumptions make an—"

The words were out of his mouth before Draco's brain even registered them, "You're like a mooncalf."

Blaise slapped a hand against his own forehead and Hermione was clearly confused, "Er… I'm sorry?"

But the damage was done and it was too late to stop. Draco stood and hesitantly took her one of her hands, eyes never leaving hers, "I try not to think about you during the day but when I'm alone at night…"

Blaise _thunked_ his head against the table and Hermione flushed.

The mortification burned through his brain and tied his tongue, "No! No, I don't mean like… what I'm trying to say is that… I wasn't referring to anything, er, untoward or…"

"Draco," Hermione cut in gently. "Breathe."

He took a few calming breaths before trying again, "You're like a mooncalf because you've burrowed into my mind and even though I push it all away during the day, you always come dancing around my thoughts under the light of the moon."

"That's… surprisingly romantic," she smiled tenderly. "I think I like being your mooncalf."

"I miss you," Draco admitted, even against the heat in his cheeks. "I try not to but damn it, I do."

Hermione placed her free hand on his arm and to his own amazement, he did not flinch away from her touch, "You can Floo or write me anytime, Draco. You could even send me a patronus if you wanted to. I'm never far away."

His heart hammered against his sternum when he looked at her, "It feels like you are. It feels like we're in entirely different worlds and I can't fucking stand it."

"That was never my intention. I just wanted to honor my promise. I wanted you to have time."

"And I'm so grateful that you kept your word but I think I've had enough time now."

If there was any trace of resistance left, the look on her face chased it all away. Her eyes were bright and her smile was like a ray of sunshine against the darkness that so often consumed him.

A tiny piece of himself, one that he'd thought lost forever to the horrors of the past, fell back into place with an almost audible 'click'. Fucking Blaise and his irritating ability for being right about everything, "If you don't already have a date - and I'm hoping you don't because I don't really want to go back to Azkaban so soon for murder - I would be honored if you would attend the Ministry's undoubtedly ghastly Christmas ball with me."

"Smooth, man," Blaise murmured from where his face was still buried in his hands.

Hermione promptly whacked the back of Blaise's head before turning back to Draco, still beaming at him like he was Merlin's gift to the world, "I would absolutely love to."

Another missing piece of Draco Malfoy slid back into place and the darkness abated just a little more. He lifted her hand to his lips, internally scorching at the little shiver he saw her try to hide when he kissed her skin, "Then it's a date… Hermione."

There was no use lying anymore. The sheer happiness in her eyes was enough to ward off his remaining demons.

Well, for now. But 'for now' was more hope than he'd felt in a long time, so he would sure as hell take it.


	6. Chapter 6

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: J.K. Rowling is the sole owner of HP. I'm just playing around.**

* * *

Three days later, as Hermione was barricaded in her office at the Ministry pouring over some scrolls dealing with a legal dispute between the centaurs and the wizards who were trying to claim their land, a wispy, corporeal dragon came swimming through the wall. It floated above her desk for a few moments before it spoke one lone word in Draco's voice:

_"Emergency."_

Thousands of scenarios, each one worse and more gruesome than the last, flitted through her mind at top speed and within seconds she was out the door - scrolls long forgotten as they drifted to the floor. She sprinted through the nearly empty halls of the Ministry and down four flights of stairs until she came skidding into the Atrium.

Hermione's heart was pounding so hard it nearly cracked her sternum. Was he okay? Had something happened? She hadn't felt any emotions from him in a few weeks but that was specifically by design. Oh Gods… was he hurt? Having another, what Narcissa had labeled as an 'episode'? Whatever it was, it was serious enough for him to contact her before their date that was set for a little less than two weeks from now. Her palms began to sweat as she scooped a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the grate.

Her hands trembled as she gasped out, "Malfoy Manor!"

Her favorite tiny house-elf, clad in a silky green tea-towel and oversized silver bow, was bouncing anxiously in the study the moment Hermione stepped through the fire.

"Miss! Miss, please hurry! Master Draco is—"

She thrust her shaking hand to the elf, "Please take me to him right away, Miffy."

Miffy nodded and took the witch's hand as they disappeared with a soft _pop_.

x-x-x

They reappeared in the dining room but before Hermione could ask any further questions about Draco's condition, Miffy snapped her fingers and disappeared again.

Despite the fact that she was still very near cardiac arrest, Hermione found herself frozen in place as she observed the dining room. What in all the hells? The cavernous room was nearly empty as the long dining table had been removed and replaced with a very small square table directly beneath the crystal chandelier in the center. A multitude of candles floated serenely a few feet below the vaulted ceilings and there was a warm fire crackling away merrily in the enormous fireplace across the room. Her sensible heels clacked loudly against the perfectly shined marble floor as she slowly approached the table.

There were two place settings - one on each side - two wine glasses, and a stunning bouquet of tiger lilies resting inside a tall crystal vase in the middle.

For the first time in her entire life, Hermione Granger's mind was completely blank. For the first time in her life, she couldn't make sense of what she was seeing.

A smooth, silky voice broke through the silence, "You came."

Just like that, her brain kicked back into gear and quickly shifted into overdrive. Her head snapped up to see that he was watching her from near the fireplace, his molten silver eyes dancing under the candlelight.

"What is this?" She asked quietly, still buzzing from the adrenaline. "I thought there was an emergency? I… I came ask quick as I could but… I don't understand. You seem okay."

Draco took a small step forward. Then another. And another. And another.

He didn't stop until he was only inches from her. Hermione had to look up at him, thanks to him being quite a few inches taller than she was, and was nearly knocked breathless by the expression on his face. Gods, how long had she been dreaming of the day when he'd look at her like _that_? The question was, of course, rhetorical. She knew good and well that she'd been waiting for well over two years, and there was always a part of her that worried it would never happen.

Merlin have mercy, it was worth the fucking wait.

But that didn't curb her curious nature, "You said there was an emergency," she reminded him softly, still mesmerized.

He nodded, "There is," Draco reached up to brush the pads of his fingers across her face. They danced down her neck, across her shoulder and collarbone, until his palm came to rest over her still fluttering heart. His eyes were gentle. "I can't believe you really came."

"Draco," Hermione rested one of her hands over the one on her heart, "I'm here. What's the emergency? What can I do?"

Draco's voice was almost a whisper, "I spent two years thinking I was going to die in Azkaban. Then you saved my life and I spent two months torturing myself, torturing _you_ by pretending that there was nothing between us. The emergency, my dear… my heart... is that I can't stay away from you anymore."

Tears stung her eyes but she did her best to keep them at bay. Her hand tightened around his, "If I'm passed out at my desk dreaming, I'm going to hex someone when I wake up."

"I can assure you, you are very much awake," he cringed a little. "Though I can certainly see why you'd mistake this for some kind of nightmar—"

Hermione's free hand clamped over his mouth to stop him, "No. Just… don't."

Draco pressed his lips to her palm before moving her small hand to his cheek and holding it there, "I'm still a long way from being okay. You know that, right?"

She curled her fingers around his sharp jaw, "I don't care. I wouldn't have cared even if we'd tried this from day one. I'm here, Draco. I've always been here. You just have to let me in."

"I think… I think I would very much like to but you may need to help me. I've never had someone to lean on before. I'm not entirely sure I know how."

Hermione stood on her toes and kissed him softly, the words spoken against his mouth, "Then I'll show you."

He tangled his long, pale fingers in her hair to secure her face to his. His mouth slanted against hers as he deepened the kiss, drawing a low groan from the back of her throat. Hermione fisted her hands in his perfectly tailored shirt, fire and ice and pleasure and pain intermingling and racing through her veins until her very cells were altered with the taste of him. Draco pulled her even closer, crushing their bodies together as his tongue swept into her mouth and swirled around hers in a sensuous dance. Not in all her wildest fantasies had she imagined it would be like this; their first kiss, back when he'd visited her at Grimmauld, had been tantamount to a bolt of lightning but this… _this_ was scorching and molten and explosive. Something intangible, something deep and impossible to define fell into place inside of her as Draco Malfoy conducted a thorough topographical study of her mouth, as she felt his harsh breathing against her body and his slender fingers kneading her scalp. Nothing else mattered. The years didn't matter, the months didn't matter, the fears didn't matter, the uncertainty didn't matter.

There was just him.

When he finally broke the kiss with a husky chuckle, Draco pressed his lips to her forehead before letting his face fall into the curve of her shoulder, "My mother would be ashamed at my appalling lack of etiquette."

Hermione was still rather breathless, "You mean, it's not considered proper to snog someone senseless after luring them to your home under the pretense of an emergency?"

"I was thinking more of how it isn't proper to snog someone senseless before bribing them with a luxurious meal as a way of apologizing for being a complete and utter moron."

"You don't have to apologize for needing time, Draco. Everyone has different ways of coping."

"Good thing I've decided that I'm tired of just coping, then."

"Yes," she smiled into his chest, intoxicated by the scent of cologne intermingling with his skin. "I have to agree."

He placed a final kiss on the top of her head before taking her by the hand and leading her to one of the chairs at the small table, "Since you are quite adamant that I don't need to apologize, please consider this as the first of many attempts at wooing you, then."

Hermione's heart did a curious little flip in her chest as he took his seat across from her and poured their wine, "You don't have to woo me, Draco. I'm already in lo—"

"No," he cut in with a soft smile. "Let me earn it. Let me earn those words."

"And how do you intend to do that?"

Just like that, Draco Malfoy was back to himself. He lifted his rather pointy nose into the air and sniffed regally, "Why - with my irresistible charms and endless supply of galleons, of course. Is there any other way?"

Hermione pressed a hand to her heart mockingly, "Oh no, how shall I ever resist?"

"It's impossible, I'm afraid. Haven't you heard how devastatingly handsome and rich I am? Surely Blaise would have told you."

"Mmmm… despite his proclivity for going that way, I've gotta say - you aren't quite his type. He prefers—"

"Bloody irritating Gryffindor's with martyr complexes, crooked glasses, and impossible hair?"

She smirked as she sipped her wine, "Something like that."

The playfulness settled around them as Miffy, with a mischievous glint in her large eyes, began to bring out the first course. It smelled divine but Hermione couldn't take her eyes from the beautiful man across the table. As soon as they were alone again, she reached for his hand.

"I've missed you more than you can ever imagine," Hermione smiled softly. "I'll be thanking the Gods for a long time to come for bringing you back to me."

He didn't smile but his piercing gray eyes were glossy with tears, "It wasn't the Gods who brought me back. It was you."

She bit her lip, "And you're certain you won't let me say it? Just once?"

Draco cracked a grin at that, "No. Not until I've earned it. I don't want things handed to me anymore - your heart included."

"If you insist. But… just know that I do. With everything that I am."

"Believe me," he brushed his fingers across her knuckles, "the feeling is more than mutual."

x-x-x

After their dinner, Draco began to write her every day.

Sometimes the almost overly formal letters were short missives detailing his day or complaining about something Blaise or his mother did and sometimes they were a little longer and more serious - where he would open up about his feelings for her and how he still struggled from time to time with reconciling their past relationship with the fact that he was now 'absolutely, irrevocably, undeniably mad for her'.

Though she had a preference for the more serious letters it didn't really matter either way; Hermione was just happy that he was making the effort. After the way he'd been raised and everything he'd been through, that alone spoke volumes about the depth of his affection. If there was one thing she remembered about Draco, it was that he was most certainly _not_ an open person and here yet here he was- writing to her each and every day, sometimes more than once, in an effort to be more open.

Just when she thought she couldn't love him more.

An owl tapped impatiently at her kitchen window then, breaking her from her reverie. Hermione tried to stifle her excitement when she saw the regal silky white owl, aptly named Everest, with a letter in his beak. She opened the window and took the letter from him, offering him a treat in return that he took with fervor before departing from her windowsill into the night.

She'd already had one letter from Draco today, so getting another was a nice surprise especially since it was nearing midnight already. He did not typically write to her so late.

Hermione broke the green wax seal that bore the Malfoy family crest and unfolded the square of parchment and was stunned at the length. Of all the letters she'd gotten from him so far, Draco had never sent her one as long as this.

_My dearest Hermione,_

_Tomorrow, Blaise and I have an early meeting so he was quite adamant that I was to leave you alone tonight and get a good night's rest so I'm not a 'snarky prick' tomorrow, but I find it impossible. How am I to sleep when you are constantly on my mind? I've been trying to find the proper way to describe what you are to me, and until now have found it impossible. I was perusing the Malfoy library this evening for something to keep myself distracted and came across a book about Greek mythology. Do you know much about Greek mythology, sweet one? Who am I kidding, of course you do. You know everything about everything! But I digress. I found one story in particular that I cannot seem to shake._

_You, my lovely woman, are like Persephone; my very own goddess of Spring. Are you so surprised that I identify with Hades? For so long, most of my life in fact, I've wallowed in the dark until it hardened me. (We can debate whether I was a product of my environment or questionable parenting or war or a combination of all the above sometime later.) But you, my Persephone, brought light and love and happiness and hope into the darkness that suffocated me for so many years. Sometimes, it feels wrong. As if I've stolen you, kidnapped your heart and selfishly squandered your affection for my own nefarious purposes. But there is nothing nefarious about the way I love you. Because I do love you. However much I don't say it, know that I do. I love you, Hermione. I love you._

_You deserve someone whole, someone normal who can give you all the things I cannot - but again, I'm entirely too selfish to give you up. I'm damaged and broken and still struggle against my own darkness almost daily, but you give me the strength I never realized I was missing. Blaise was right - I tried healing myself on my own for far too long without understanding that self-care and therapy was only half of the equation. You were the other half._

_I will likely never be able to repay the things you have done for me, for my father, for my mother, but I can promise to try. I can promise to work, every day, to be a little better than I was the day before. I can promise to love you, unconditionally, until my heart fails and I can promise to love you, even further, when we meet again in whatever awaits us after this life. You know that I am not typically one for apologies but… I'm sorry that I was too stubborn, too desperate for the approval of others when we were back in school to realize how I felt about you. I'm sorry that every time I caught your eye in the hall or in class, I called you a Mudblood and I'm sorry that every time I wanted to pull you closer, I pushed you away instead. I'm sorry that I watched you being tortured only a few feet away from me without even attempting to help. I'm sorry that I've wasted so many years fighting this when all I wanted to do since I was thirteen was call you mine. I'm sorry, my lovely Persephone. Please know that I am working hard to deserve your forgiveness._

_My mother has told me how you lived at the Manor while I was in Azkaban because it made it easier for you to take care of her. I could go on for another five inches about what that gesture means to me, but I'll save that for another time. Now, I would like to invite you to come back… if you are amenable, of course. I needed space in the beginning - now, I feel like I'm drowning when you're not here. Come back and live at the Manor, Hermione, so I can see you, touch you, anytime I start to forget what it's all for. Come back and live at the Manor so I don't have to send letters and Floo call to tell you how much I love you. Come back and live at the Manor so you can be with your family - because we are, Hermione. We are your family and you are ours. Please, come home to us. To me._

_Every etiquette lesson I ever learned tells me that I should be mortified by the contents of this letter. Every Pureblood tradition I know tells me that all of this is shameful and disgraceful. But I don't care about any of that inane, archaic bullshit anymore. You know that, don't you? That I would give everything up if it meant keeping you? I would. The money, the power, the reputation - everything. None of it means anything without you, not anymore._

_When I was still on trial, I could hear you talking to the Minister in the hall. Blaise came in then and asked me how I was doing and I remember one thought above all the others - '_ _She is everything; the moon in the sky and the sun and the stars. I can't breathe when she's so far away.' You are everything, Hermione. You are the moon and I'm a Sacred Datura, blooming under your light. You are the stars and I, the stardust. You are the sun and I'm simply basking in your warmth. This all may sound terribly suave, but I'd be lying if I said this was the first love letter I ever wrote you. I've written you many, even so far back as at Hogwarts. They only ever made it as far at the fire in the Common Room, however. Even after writing it down, I tried to fight it._

_I still have a long way to go until I feel like myself again, but even just being able to actually send this to you should be proof of just how far I've come. And again, it is all thanks to you and your almost irritating ability to see the good in everyone. As I mentioned before, Blaise and I have an early meeting but if you'd like to spend the rest of the night with me, you are more than welcome to come through the Floo to my room. I haven't attempted to share my personal space quite so intimately yet, but with you, I would like to try._

_Most Unabashedly Yours,_

_Draco_

Hermione didn't even have the letter folded before she was clambering through the Floo.

Draco was shirtless and already asleep when she stepped from the flames into his bedroom, an opened book face down on his chest and blankets tangled around his long legs. She let out a contended little sigh at the sight of him. He was now almost completely back to a healthy weight and the shadows were virtually gone from under his eyes. He was finally starting to look like himself again but more than that, he was getting so much better. His father was able to give him a short hug and Harry was able to shake his hand now. Slowly but surely, he was recovering.

Hermione shrugged out of her cardigan and slipped out of her flat shoes, padding over to the bed. Her eyes glistened when she saw the stack of letters, all covered in her loopy handwriting, adorning one of his nighttables. The picture of herself that she'd sent him, upon his annoyingly persistent requests, sat in a silver gilded frame on the other table. She ran her fingers along the edge of the frame gently before removing her shirt and skirt and climbing into the opulent bed next to him. Hermione removed the book - Greek mythology, of course - from his chest and set it on the nighttable containing her picture before straightening the blankets around him and curling into his side.

One long, pale arm curved unconsciously around her shoulders and she quickly drifted off to sleep surrounded by his cologne and the deep, even sound of his breathing.

x-x-x

Hermione awoke to feel a pair of eyes watching her. Her face was still buried against his bare chest that moved up and down ever so slightly but she could hear the birds chirping outside and felt the warmth of the sun on her back. She looked up to see that he was, indeed, staring down at her with the most curious look in his eyes. It was almost… disbelief? Awe? Reverence?

"Hi," she smiled, resting her chin against his ribs. "Looking for something?"

"You're here," Draco breathed with disbelief. "You came."

"I'm not sure why that still surprises you so much. That was my first invite into your bedroom, after all. Besides, after that letter - did you really expect me to say no?"

"You have no idea how much I struggled to actually send that," he flushed, pink spots blooming high on his pale cheeks. "And you're right it was the first invitation… and I was _asleep_."

She pressed a soft kiss to his ribs, "That's alright. I wasn't expecting… there's no need to rush anything, Draco. I just meant that it was the first time you ever invited me in here; I know how rarely you let _anyone_ in this room."

He brushed a lock of curls back from her face, "I wanted to see if I could handle you being here, being so close like this for an extended amount of time. I wanted to see if… other things would be possible without triggering anything."

This time, Hermione was the one who blushed. _Other things_ with Draco had been a prevalent star of her daydreams for quite some time now. Oh hell, who was she kidding? _Other things_ with Draco had been on her mind since at least their fourth year. Only now was she starting to get more… creative with the fantasies. In Hogwarts, the sex she imagined had been vanilla and nice. Now, the sex she imagined was enough to make her sweat and cross her legs, possibly even need to change her knickers. She tried to hide the little shiver than danced down her spine, "And what's the consensus?"

His liquid silver eyes darkened as he took her hand and slid it down his chest until it slipped under the sheets and brushed against his very prominent, very hard erection. The words were like honey as they fell from his lips in a husky tone, "Possible. Very fucking possible. Incredibly, almost painfully fucking possible."

Hermione wrapped her fingers around his length and Draco threw his head back with a sharp hiss…

Only for Blaise to come through the Floo, looking immaculate and regal as ever. His eyes widened when he saw Hermione's clothes on the floor next to the bed and their almost compromising position, "Well, well. I was about to say 'good morning', but I can see that would be a little redundant."

Draco nearly groaned as Hermione removed her hand and moved to pull the sheet around her; she was still wearing her bra and knickers but that didn't make her feel any less naked. He sat up, eyes narrowed at his friend, "There better be a good fucking reason you're interrupting us, Zabini. Otherwise you're going to find yourself with one less appendage. One that I think Potter would disapprove of most egregiously."

Blaise chuckled, moving to the armoire to take out a pristine dark gray suit and crisp white button-down. He laid them across the end of the bed and summoned a shiny pair of Italian leather shoes, "We have a meeting with the interior designer in half an hour. You know, the one _you_ hired to decorate the offices of _your_ new business?"

"Shit! I completely forgot!" Draco pressed a quick kiss to Hermione's cheek before scurrying from the bed towards the bathroom. "I'll be out of the shower in five minutes!"

Hermione slumped against the intricately carved headboard, "You're timing could not have been worse, Blaise. I'm tempted to hex you myself. You couldn't have rescheduled?"

He chuckled, pinching at one of her legs, "Nice to see that things are progressing between you two. Did I interrupt what I think I did?"

"No," she sighed, leaning down to grab her clothes from the floor, "not yet, anyway. Though had you not come, there's a very good chance we might have."

"Ah, but see - I did you a favor. Are you sure you really want your first time together to be a spontaneous bout of morning sex? If I know Drake, he's probably going to make it a big, elaborate thing with roses and wine and candles. Say what you want about him, but he's a romantic if there ever was one."

Hermione smiled, "Gods, if that isn't an understatement. You should see the letter he sent me last night, Blaise. I honestly didn't know such… emotion, such _passion_ lived beneath his prickly exterior. Had I known _that_ was within his capabilities all this time, I would have dragged him off to snog in a broom cupboard long before we even graduated."

Blaise laughed at that, "Now that I would have paid to see. Not you snogging him in a broom cupboard, but the Princess of Gryffindor dragging the Slytherin Prince away for a midnight tryst in an alcove because she couldn't resist anymore. Merlin, the school would have gone insane."

"And I would have promptly told them all to go to Hell as I tore his shirt off."

Her friend leaned against one of the bedposts, his sienna eyes wandering towards the bathroom door, "He's doing alright, though? With the physical side? I know he still has problems with people touching him or getting to close and I'd hate to see him regress back to where he was before."

"I don't think you have to worry about that, Blaise," she murmured, glancing at the pillow that still held the indentation of his head. "I seem to be a very welcome exception to that reaction."

"Good," he nudged her foot, grinning again. "Because if you don't get laid soon, I worry that you're going to spontaneously combust."

Hermione whacked him in the face with a pillow.

* * *

***A ****_Sacred Datura_**** is a fragrant, white flower that blooms by the light of the moon. It is beautiful, but deadly- it can cause hallucinations, physical and/or mental impairment, and even death.***


	7. Chapter 7

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: J.K. Rowling is the sole owner of HP. I'm just playing around.**

* * *

"You are making phenomenal progress, Draco. To say I'm impressed would be a gross understatement."

He rolled his eyes at the Mind Healer, "Malfoy's are notoriously resilient. Haven't you heard?"

She simply smirked as the dicta-quill floated idly above the parchment on her desk, "Yes, I may have heard something about that over the years. Regardless, I am very pleased at how well you're doing with your recovery. How are things with Hermione? Have things progressed into a more intimate territory yet?"

Draco could feel something whispering in the back of his mind - something that sounded suspiciously like…

No. _No_.

He crossed his long arms over his chest and locked the malicious whispering away in a tiny mental box, "That's a bit personal, even for you. Don't you agree?"

The Mind Healer nodded to her dicta-quill, which began to scribble away again, "So, no intimacy then. Is there any particular reason for that? Are you finding it difficult to become aroused? Because, given the circumstances that would be perfectly normal."

Draco blushed furiously, his face and ears burning with mortification, "No! No, that is most certainly _not_ an issue. No. Gods, no. I'm just… I have a plan. I want everything to be… I mean, she deserves better than just a quick… it has nothing to do with any _physical issues_. Merlin, woman."

Her tone was gentle, "Draco, I apologize for being quite so blunt about this but you suffered horrific sexual abuse in Azkaban and yet, not once, have we discussed it in our sessions. I only know about it due to the medical diagnostics report I obtained from St. Mungo's. You are making fantastic strides in your recovery, but I find myself worried about your repression of what that guard did to you."

His palms began to sweat and his heart stumbled in his chest. That malicious whispering broke free from the tiny mental box and its volume was steadily increasing, automatically triggering his body's panic response. He stifled it as best he could and plastered a cool sneer on his face, "We haven't discussed it because there's no point. What's done is done. Rehashing it won't make a difference."

"I'm afraid I have to disagree, Draco. If you plan to become physically intimate with Hermione in the near future, this is something we need to discuss. We need to make sure you're aware of what your triggers are so she can avoid them."

_Bad. Bad. Bad. This is bad. This is bad. Don't talk about it. Smother it. Pretend it doesn't exist. Pretend it doesn't matter. _"I don't have any triggers. Despite your rather gauche habit of displaying your many impressive academic achievements on your office wall, you have rather missed the mark on this one. I am not traumatized. I am not some fragile little bird made of glass that will shatter at the mere mention of that prick's name. His name is Augustus Tibbs," nausea and panic and fear and terror roiled in his gut even as he stared at his therapist with cool, even eyes, "and he is a rapist. See? I'm still here, completely intact."

The Mind Healer's expression was alarmed now, "Draco…"

"Would you look at the time? Four o'clock already," he stood from the couch, surreptitiously wiping his damp palms against his expensive trousers as he turned away. "This has been a delight as always. Same time next week?"

"Draco, please—"

But he was already gone, the flames of the Floo burning brightly in the hearth from his hasty departure.

x-x-x

Draco paced relentlessly across his bedroom - back and forth - in a desperate attempt to quell some of his anxiety. Hermione had touched him. She had touched him nearly a week ago when he had been almost painfully hard and the only reaction he'd had was mind-melting bliss' until Blaise walked in and ruined it, of course. But she had touched him and he hadn't freaked out. She had slept in his bed, curled into his body like a cat, and he hadn't freaked out. Why should sex be any different? She had touched him and slept next to him and moved her things back into his house and sold her flat and now, a week later, he was still fine.

At least, he _had_ been fine until his appointment with his fucking Mind Healer. Now he was…

No. _No_. He was fine. He was FINE.

Having Hermione in his home felt like being able to breathe again. His chest wasn't so tight anymore and, even though she insisted on staying in her old room (from back when she'd lived at the Manor in order to care for his mother), just knowing that she was only a few feet down the hall comforted him more than he would ever admit to anyone. With her, he was fine.

They hadn't done anything more than kiss and she hadn't touched him again since that first morning, but she assured him that she was simply being cautious; that taking things slowly with him was best for them both. He'd agreed of course, considering he had his own plans for their first time together but it was hard to deny that the soulmate lure, the _pull_, was hard for them both to resist at times.

To be honest, it was good that Hermione's self-control could rival stone - hard and unyielding - because as the days passed, she became harder and harder to resist. His body wanted her, his heart reached for her, and his soul felt lost without her. There was something deep within him, embedded within his very DNA that recognized her as the sun, as the focal point of his entire universe, and it wanted her with a ferocity that shocked even himself. But he wanted their first time together to be special and Hermione was adamant that now was not the right time as well so Draco refrained from pestering her… no matter how much his own cock and heart and soul hated him for it. But he had plans and Hermione - beautiful, lovely, brilliant Hermione - wanted to wait. At this point, he was fairly certain he'd bring her the stars if she asked for them and _he had plans_, so they would wait.

And waiting felt fine.

Not waiting felt fine.

Everything felt fine.

See? He was absolutely fine. What the fuck was he paying a Mind Healer for when Hermione's mere proximity soothed him better than that useless old bint? What a fucking joke. Repression? Triggers? As if. He simply _had plans_ and she wanted to wait.

Yes. There was no repression and he had no triggers.

He was fine.

Nothing had even happened. Azkaban had just fucked with his head.

Yes. Yes, it was all in his head.

He was fine.

x-x-x

"Draco?" Hermione knocked softly on his closed bedroom doors. "Draco, _Homenum Revelio_ says you're in there. Are you at least going to open up so I can give you a kiss before I collapse from exhaustion? It has been a frightfully long day poring over outdated Pureblood breeding laws, which were nauseatingly archaic and horrifyingly sexist, by the way."

There was no answer for a long time before the door cracked open slightly. Hermione frowned, pushing the door open more with her hand. She stepped into the opulent bedroom to see that Draco was sitting in a black leather armchair by the fire with a half-full glass of Firewhiskey balancing on of the arms. He didn't even look away from the flames as she clicked the door shut softly behind her.

She moved slowly towards him, "Draco? Are you alright?"

"Mind Healer session today," he answered rather robotically, his voice clinical and dead.

Panic flared in her chest and she froze, nearly close enough to reach out and touch him, "Would it help to talk about it?"

Draco looked up at her then, his silver eyes immediately softening at the concern on her face. He _Vanished_ the tumbler of Firewhiskey and came to take one of her hands in order to lead her to his bed, "No. Just you being here with me is enough. I'm fine."

Hermione could tell that he was most certainly _not_ fine, but she didn't want to push him. That was always Blaise's number one request - not to push Draco to talk if he wasn't ready to. So, despite the gnawing unease in her gut, she allowed him to pull her work clothes off and drag her into his bed, where he proceeded to wrap his limbs around her like an octopus before promptly passing out.

He only cuddled her that way when he was having a bad day.

He only drank when he was struggling.

Despite her growing certainty that something was seriously wrong, Hermione really was exhausted and found herself succumbing to sleep within minutes of being ensconced in him.

x-x-x

There were so many demons.

Sometimes they came in the shape of the Dark Mark, sometimes in the shape of Voldemort, and sometimes in the shape of his soulmate being tortured on the floor of his drawing room until she was sobbing and begging for death as he looked away and prayed he wasn't next. Tonight, though, they looked suspiciously like a certain Azkaban guard who repeatedly informed him that it was his distinct pleasure to make the remainder of his life sentence a living, breathing Hell.

There were so many, many demons that came for him in the dark.

Draco Malfoy was drowning.

There was no way out.

Ever.

There were so many demons.

x-x-x

Hermione was jolted awake by the sound of something ripping and tearing next to her. Her eyes snapped open but the fire had died down and it was too dark in the room to see. The sounds grew louder and more frantic as the seconds ticked by and the unease she had felt before falling asleep was now full five-alarm panic. She snatched her wand from the hidden seam of her skirt that was on the floor next to the bed and murmured: "_Lumos_ _minima_."

The soft light from her wand illuminated the large bed and confirmed her fears - the ripping and tearing sounds were coming from the violent sobs wracking Draco's chest. He was still asleep, but his face was streaked with tears and his teeth were gritted tightly against the sobs as if that could stifle them, his knuckles white from how tightly his fists were clenched against the sheets. Hermione flicked her wand to draw back the curtains and let in the moonlight before dispelling her charm. She cupped one of his cheeks, "Draco," she called softly. "Draco, you're having a nightmare. Whatever you're seeing isn't real. Wherever you are isn't real. I'm right here beside you, Draco. You're safe. You're _safe_."

His eyes flew open and though he stopped crying, he was still gasping sharply as if his lungs couldn't get enough oxygen. Hermione cupped both of his cheeks to get his attention, "I'm here, Draco. I'm here."

Shining silver eyes flickered across her face for a split second before Draco roughly shoved her away and curled in on himself, huddling against the headboard with his knees pulled up and burying his face in his arms.

She did her best to stifle the twinge of hurt. _This isn't about you._ She reminded herself harshly. _Something is wrong. This isn't the time._

"Draco," Hermione whispered. "Draco, where did you go? What were you dreaming of?"

He just shook his head.

She scooted a tiny bit closer, "I can't help if you don't talk to me, love."

Draco's muscles stiffened at the endearment.

"Draco—"

"What do you want me to say?" He spat abruptly, his head snapping up to glare at her. "How the fuck could someone like you possibly help me?"

"Draco," Hermione tried again, her voice still soothing and gentle. "I understand you're hurting, but if you don't—"

Draco scoffed, his eyes narrowed and hard, "Oh you understand, do you? You understand what poor, pathetic Draco Malfoy is going through? Let me tell you something, _princess_-" he sneered her former nickname, "you don't know _shit_."

She took a deep breath. Narcissa had warned her how aggressive he could during one of his episodes so she should have been prepared, but his words still cut her. Hermione moved a little closer, determined to help somehow, "Then tell me, Draco. Tell me what's hurting you so I know what to do."

His eyes were burning with rage as he moved to loom over her, fists still balled tight, "You'd love that, wouldn't you? You'd love to hear what that fucking guard did to me so you could just run back Potter and Weasel and have a good, long laugh, wouldn't you? You'd love to feel _sorry_ for me and _pity_ me so you would have another gods damned thing to hold over my head, wouldn't you?"

"Guard…" Hermione's eyes widened in understanding. "Draco… are you talking about Tibbs?"

He slammed a fist into one of the thick wooden bedposts as he roared, "DON'T SAY HIS NAME!"

In any other situation, she would have been terrified and hit him with a nonverbal stunner to subdue him. But he wasn't just anyone - he was Draco, he was her soulmate. He was hers and she was his. He wasn't the same as he had been before Azkaban, but that was understandable. The things he'd been through would have changed anyone, scarred anyone. He was getting better, but it was so easy to forget that he still had a very long way to go. Especially when he hid his struggles so well. Hermione put her palm on his trembling fist and gently moved it from the bedpost. His knuckles were split and bleeding.

"What do you want to hear me say?" Draco cried brokenly, his head hanging so his white-blond hair covered his face. His shoulders shook. Tears dripped onto the sheets. "Do you want to hear how he shoved me against the floor? How he sometimes knocked me unconscious? How he left blood on my thighs and bruises on my back? Do you want to hear how he threatened to do worse to my mother if I ever told anyone? Do you want to hear how he threatened to force my father to watch if I struggled?"

Her cheeks were wet with her own tears but her voice was steady, "If you need to tell someone, then yes. If you need to talk about it, then I need to hear it."

"Sometimes I can still feel his breath on my neck. I can still hear every vile fucking thing he ever… it's like he's inside my head. Like I can't let it go."

Hermione's heart was breaking for his agony. She very slowly and cautiously wrapped her fingers around his wrists and tugged softly, "Draco. Draco, look at me."

Though it seemed almost painful for him to do so, he looked up.

His expression was the epitome of pain and it ripped through her like a serrated knife. Hermione took his face in her hands and though she couldn't stop herself from trembling as she held his cheeks, she forced the words out, "You made it. You made it out of there. I'm so sorry that I couldn't get you out sooner, but you made it. He can never hurt you again. He'd have to kill me first."

The horror and fear and panic slowly started to ebb from his eyes as she spoke.

Her grip on his face tightened, "I will never let anyone hurt you again."

A little more of the desperation bled away.

"You made it," she choked, tears blurring her vision, "and I am so fucking proud of you. Do you hear me? I am proud of you, Draco Malfoy, because you made it out of there in one piece."

"No," his voice was hoarse and strained, "I didn't."

"Then we'll put you back together," Hermione's fingers traced his cheeks, his lips, his jaw. "However long it takes. We'll do it. _I'll_ do it. I'm not going anywhere, Draco. We're in this together."

Finally, it felt like looking at _him_ again. He fell into her arms, still shaking but no longer crying. "I need you, Granger," Draco murmured from against her chest. "I can't do this without you anymore."

"You don't have to," she pressed her lips to his hair, running her hands up and down his back. "I'm here."

"Stay," he garbled almost unintelligibly. "Stay."

Hermione rested her cheek against the top of his head, sighing with relief as he began to snore, "Always."

x-x-x

Draco awoke the next morning feeling simultaneously drained and yet reinvigorated. He felt like a flannel that had been wrung out, over and over, until it was limp and ragged but he also felt closer to his old self than he had since coming home from Azkaban. The sky outside his bedroom windows was a crisp, clear cerulean broken only by a few white, puffy clouds that lazily danced across the windowpanes and the sun streamed into his room and warmed the bedsheets under its rays.

Had the world always been that beautiful?

It felt like someone had lifted a fog from his mind and things were suddenly vibrant and exceptional. How long had it been since he last felt this way? Since he last felt his _happy _and _normal_?

Years. It had been many, many years. Since before the war, perhaps.

Something had changed, something deep in his psyche - maybe even something deep within his soul. Something was different.

He thought back to the previous day; he remembered having a rather tense session with his Mind Healer, he remembered storming out, and he remembered convincing himself he was fine until Firewhiskey seemed to be the only way to drown out the malicious, vindictive whispering in his mind that sounded like…

Tibbs. The whispering was Tibbs.

Draco braced himself for the panic - for the depression and the sensation of drowning. But they never came. He braced himself for the hopelessness and the terror. But they never came. He braced himself for the demons. But they never came either.

He still remembered the things that had happened to him in Azkaban, but it was different now. Not as sharp, not as painful and jagged. Healing. Patched. Stitched. The wound was still there, but it was scabbed over; covered in gauze and medical tape. He was no longer bleeding, but scarring.

How? How had this happened _so quickly_?

There were a few curly hairs on the pillow beside his and he leaned down, immediately recognizing the dizzying scent left behind. Roses and apples. But why…?

The Floo across the room came roaring to life and Blaise stepped through with an almost comical grin on his face, "Well, good morning sunshine. I gotta say, I'm seriously impressed."

"With what?"

He held up a copy of the Daily Prophet, "I don't know what kind of magic you've worked on our dear little Hermione, but that woman is fucking terrifying. I knew she had a vindictive streak, but I never anticipated something like this."

And then Draco remembered. Hermione had come to his room last night, as she always did, to bid him goodnight before retiring to her own bed. Only she hadn't made it back to her own bed; he'd had a nightmare about Azkaban, about Tibbs, and she had woken him up.

He'd cursed at her.

He'd sneered at her.

He'd punched the bedpost behind her and had sore, bruised knuckles to prove it.

"Is she alright?' He asked immediately, rubbing his knuckles in a shoddy attempt to ease some of his anxiety. "Did I hurt her? I can't really remember everything clearly. Please tell me I didn't… that I didn't hurt her."

Blaise's brows pulled down, "Hermione? Why would you think you hurt her?"

Draco ran a nervous hand through his sleep-ruffled hair, "I had a rather… uncomfortable session yesterday and—"

"Oh," his friend nodded in understand, "you're referring to you freaking out and having an episode on her? No, she's fine. Better than fine now, if I had to wager a guess. Take a look."

He took the proffered newspaper from his friend and nearly choked at the headline.

**AZKABAN GUARD FOUND CASTRATED. SYSTEMATIC ABUSE OF PRISONERS UNCOVERED BY PENSIEVE MEMORIES.**

It took a few minutes for Draco to relocate his jaw, but when he did there still were no words. He looked up at Blaise, dumbfounded, "This is impossible."

The darker man chuckled, "It certainly should be. However, I've found that 'impossible' and 'Hermione Granger' are quite simply antithetical concepts. You might want to get used to that."

"No, Blaise," he ran a hand over his mouth as he read over the headline again. "I don't think you understand. The guards, they _live_ in Azkaban. They're magically bound to the prison until their contract expires. Getting a pass to Azkaban from the Ministry is difficult in and of itself but to actually get through the wards to where the guard's private chambers are… that's _impossible_."

"Apparently not, because she and Harry did it."

That caught Draco by surprise, "Potter helped her? Even though he's an Auror?"

Blaise came to sit on the end of his bed, "Hermione came through to our place around three in the morning, looking like she'd just been dragged through Hell and back. She was shaking like a leaf when she told us what happened with you," at the way Draco recoiled with a sneer of disgust at himself, he held up a hand. "Not because she was afraid of you, Drake, but because she was absolutely itching to kill someone for what had happened to you. I'm not exaggerating when I say that her pain and her fury was palpable. We were quite literally choking with the way her magic was radiating it. She ranted for a while about the injustice and the depravity of what happened until she just stopped suddenly and asked Harry if she could borrow his invisibility cloak. About two minutes after that, they both Disapparated together and I haven't seen them since."

"He's an Auror," Draco repeated, dazed.

"And she's his best friend and you're her soulmate. Of course he helped her."

He slumped back against the headboard, "That's not all she did, Blaise. She… she made it better. I don't mean that she simply listened and now I feel better - no… Hermione, she-" He looked back to his friend. "I don't know what she did but the pain is just gone. I still remember what happened but it feels hazy, like it happened a long time ago. It doesn't send me into a panic anymore to think about it. My palms don't even sweat. It's there but indistinct. And it feels like I'm almost back to how I used to be. I almost feel normal again."

Blaise's expression was soft, "Soulmate love is a powerful thing, Drake. It allows us to use our magic in ways we couldn't before. Hate the Ministry all you want, but they got all of this right - down to the very last detail."

"How did she fix me, Blaise? I was a fucking mess, broken into a hundred little pieces that felt impossible to bind back together and now… now I feel like myself. _How did she fix me_?"

"Isn't it obvious? She used parts of her own soul to stitch yours back together."

Draco's gray eyes were wide, "How the fuck did she do that?"

He shrugged, "Soulmate magic. I don't know how it works, but I do know that Harry was all sorts of fucked up when we were thrown together and then one day, after he let it all out to me, he just wasn't anymore. Your soul found its counterpart, Drake. Try not to get too wrapped up in the 'how'; it'll just drive you mad. Trust me - those muggle geneticists could have been writing in Greek for all I understood of their work. All I know is that they got it right, and because of that - men like us, men who were on the wrong side, get another chance at life and happiness. Does the 'how' really matter?"

Draco immediately began rifling through one of the drawers in his bedside table, huffing irritably and slamming it shut when he couldn't find what it was he was looking for. He then leaned across the bed, momentarily halted by the scent of roses and apples, before plunging headlong into the opposite nightstand with just as much fervor.

"What in Merlin's name are you looking for?" Blaise asked, clearly amused.

He shoved around the contents of the drawer, certain he'd last left it her. Where the fuck was it when he needed it? Gods damned enchanted nighttables and their anti-summoning wards. Whose brilliant fucking idea had that been?

"Hello? Earth to Drake? _What are you looking for_?"

"I had a business card in here somewhere and I can't find it."

His friend's dark eyebrows nearly reached his hair, "A business card?"

"Yes, of a jeweler."

"A jeweler."

"That's what I said. Shall I cast a _Sonorus_ charm for you?"

"Why do you need a business card for a jeweler? There are thousands of them and you could easily buy them all out."

"None are as good as this one… ah! Here it is," Draco pulled out a small rectangular card that shimmered like pearls in the sunlight. His eyes flitted over the card, an affectionate smile spreading across his lips. "Yes. This will be perfect for her."

Blaise's eyes widened in understanding, "You're buying rare, probably nauseatingly expensive traditional jewelry for Hermione now? Merlin, just when I think you can't surprise me anymore."

"Not buying - I'll pay to have something new crafted for her," his voice was soft as he looked down at the card. "I can never properly repay her for all that she's done for me… but I can show the world what she means to me. I can prove to those who are stuck in the old ways or those that don't believe in me that I love her."

"Traditionally Pureblood jewelry gifted to a Muggle-born witch who not only helped save the world but is also soulmates with the old posterchild for Pureblood supremacy?" Blaise grinned wickedly. "I absolutely fucking love it. You certainly don't do anything by halves. Then again, neither does she."

Draco's liquid silver eyes gleamed as he looked up at his friend, "I would want nothing less from my future wife."

Blaise burst into loud guffaws of booming laughter as he fell back against the bed and conjured a corporeal stallion patronus and spoke to it, "You owe me 50 galleons, Narcissa. Draco didn't even make it until Christmas."

The wispy stallion galloped through the wall as Blaise wiped at his eyes, "Narcissa and I have had your wedding to Hermione planned out since we found out about the soulmate thing. We just took bets on how long it would take before realized you were crazy about her."

"Every instinct I have says I should either punch you or hex you, but—" Draco's attention diverted as the Floo across from his bed came roaring to life and his disheveled, exhausted looking witch stumbled through it. His eyes drank her in greedily - her mass of wild, frizzy curls escaping from her ponytail; the dirt smeared across her left cheekbone; the blood crusted across her right knuckles - and he knew, without a doubt.

He would move Heaven and Earth for her, if she asked. He would bring her the moon. He would sell his soul. He would implode the universe.

His warrior. His soulmate. His wife.

"But?" Blaise prodded, smirking.

Draco moved from the bed and shoved Blaise across the room until he forced him through the Floo - his posture once more prim and aristocratic as he moved. Hermione obviously sensed the difference in him because her breath caught, "D-Draco?"

His lips crashed down against hers in a bruising kiss, slanting his mouth so he could slip his tongue past her teeth to taste her. Hermione's battered fists tightened around the fabric of his cotton shirt as she melted against him, a tiny mewl escaping from the back of her throat. His long, pale fingers snapped her hair band and entwined in her unruly curls - effectively securing her face to his.

"You're okay," she gasped against his mouth. "I was so worried."

"You bloody, brilliant, insufferable woman," Draco ground out as he backed her into one of his bookshelves. Her spine hit the wood and she shivered. He nipped at her ear, her jaw, her throat. "You broke into Azkaban. Are you fucking mad?"

"H-he… he h-hurt you…" Hermione panted as Draco dragged his teeth along her collarbone. "I had to…"

"I cannot lose you," he suckled at her throat, a spot blooming pink under his attentions. "Not now. Not ever. Do you understand? I would never recover from that. I would never be okay."

Hermione slid her fingers into his hair, "You won't. I-I'm here. I'm here, Draco."

"Gods, woman. You truly have no idea," Draco cupped her face and leaned down to brush against her lips softly. "_How do I love thee? Let me count the ways._"

Her eyes shimmered with tears, "Draco…"

He kissed the corner of her mouth, "_I love thee to the depth and breadth and height; my soul can reach, when feeling out of sight_."

"I love you," she choked, "_I love you, _so stop the poetry before I become a blubbering mess."

"I love you," Draco echoed right back, his fingers ghosting down the column of her neck and across her collarbones. "Next week, I intend to show you just how much."

"You don't have to—"

The words slipped across the shell of her ear sensuously, "I'm going to drape you in jewelry for the Ministry's Christmas ball," he crooned, fingers sliding between her thighs. "And then, I intend to fuck you - quite thoroughly - into the mattress, wearing nothing but said jewelry."

Hermione's eyes nearly rolled back in her head, "Gods…"

"And as I'm fucking you in nothing but that jewelry," the heel of his hand pressed against her sex and she gasped, his silver eyes burning into hers with desire and passion and affection, "I plan to detail each and every way you are perfect to me, each and every way you bewitch me. How does that sound, my lovely girl? Would you like that?"

"O-only if…" She bucked against his hand as he ground it against her. "If…"

"Yes?" He drawled, dragging out each and every letter until the dripped like honey from his tongue. "Only if_ what_, my love?"

"N-not the bed…" Hermione managed as he nipped at her throat. "Wall… or f-floor… or sh-shower… b-bookshelf…"

His chuckle was husky and dripping with lust as he slipped his fingers past the waist of her jeans, "Our first time of the night will be on the bed. After that, sweet one, I will fuck you anywhere and everywhere you please. For the rest of time, if you so desire."

The pads of his fingers brushed against the apex of her thighs, right over the center of her knickers and she nearly collapsed, "Th-thank the fucking Gods for _that_."


	8. Chapter 8

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: J.K. Rowling is the sole owner of HP. I'm just playing around.**

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His son had been pacing outside the door to his study for precisely twenty-seven minutes and thirty-nine seconds before finally gathering the courage to knock. It had then taken another four minutes and twelve seconds after inviting him in for Draco to actually cross the threshold and shut the door behind him.

Lucius drew on his years of being the cool, collected Malfoy patriarch in order to stifle his smirk as his son fidgeted in front of him. Of course, he _could_ just spare the boy from all the anxiety… but then again, this was really another Malfoy rite of passage. After all, he still vividly remembered the day he fell to his knees in front of his own father - Abraxas Malfoy - and begged him (yes, _begged _him like a commoner) for permission to ask for Narcissa Black's hand in marriage. He still remembered the gnawing fear that his father would say no. He still remembered thinking that even if his father _did_ say no, he would just marry her anyway - consequences be damned.

Yes, it would be good to Draco to experience that as well - if for no other reason than to be forced to admit to himself how he felt for the little lioness. It wasn't as if they didn't know; Blaise had been rather open to them both regarding Draco's internal struggle with the whole soulmate thing from the beginning.

Lucius was eternally grateful that he and Narcissa's marks matched.

"Father," Draco began shakily, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he stopped to draw in a deep breath through his sharp nose. After fourty-six more seconds, he tried again - this time, his voice stronger. "Father."

Gods, had it ever been so difficult to contain himself? He rather thought not. Lucius carefully schooled his expression to be completely blank and neutral as he surveyed his son from across the desk, "Good evening, Draco. Is there something I can do for you? Your mother had mentioned that you had plans with the others this evening."

The boy nodded softly, "We are going to something called a 'cinema' around eight in London. Muggle but… I've been assured I will enjoy it."

"So soon?" Lucius' icy gaze flitted unnecessarily to the heavy clock above the mantle that read 7:35. "Then you are cutting it quite close. There must be something important on your mind for you to be seeking me out now. What is it, son?"

Draco, in true Hermione Granger fashion, nibbled on his bottom lip for a moment before straightening his spine and meeting Lucius' hard eyes, "I can't imagine my life without her."

Lucius' pale brows nearly hit his hairline. That was most certainly _not_ how he'd expected the conversation to begin, "Oh?"

"I know that you wanted someone Pureblood for me, I know you've planned on that since I was a boy but things are… they're different now."

Draco thought he intended to fight against the little lioness who saved his life and his family? Interesting. "Different how? I've spoken with the Ministry and I have been assured that there is, indeed, no actual binding magic tying the world's 'soulmates' together. The Minister himself has shown me the research and, while I cannot decipher all of it, I was able to discern that a person's free-will has not been affected."

"It has nothing to do with any of that," his son breathed, a rather dreamy look glazing his steel gray eyes. "The Ministry… whatever they did, whatever they put in the water - it doesn't matter. The way I feel for her has nothing to do with soul magic."

The smug smirk was so close to breaking through his façade but Lucius held it back, "No? You're quite sure?"

"Father," he stepped forward until his hands gripped the edge of the desk, "I have never been surer of anything in my entire life. Even back at Hogwarts I felt this way, I just… I didn't… I couldn't…"

"No," Lucius agreed, guilt twisting like a knife in his chest. "I suppose not."

"I know she isn't what you envisioned for me, that a Muggle-born would have never been your choice for your only son, but…" Draco looked up at him, expression both determined and yet terrified at the same time. "It's her. There will never be anyone else and if… if I can't have her then I don't want anyone at all. Please, father. I'm painfully aware that she is entirely too good for me, but for some reason that I still can't fathom, she wants me as well. I know how you feel about her blood but… after everything she's done for us, after knowing how I feel for her, I would hope that you could look past that. Mother positively adores her, Blaise practically moves mountains for her, and I… I love her."

His lips twitched, "Is that so?"

Most unexpectedly, Draco - his aristocratic, spoiled, Pureblood heir - dropped to his knees on the expensive Oriental rug and lowered his head, "Please, father. _Please_, let me give her one of the Malfoy jewels as a gift. I want her to wear it when we attend the Ministry's Christmas ball together."

So many surprises tonight! Narcissa and Blaise were adamant that he was in love with Hermione, but neither of them mentioned just how serious his son was taking the entire situation. It would seem that even Lucius had underestimated his only child. Giving the Muggle-born witch one of the Malfoy jewels was big, but having her wear it in public was positively scandalous. Having her wear it to a Ministry-sanctioned holiday event as a very clear declaration of their relationship status was _unheard of_. The Prophet was going to have a field day and anyone in the Wizarding World who understood the old ways was probably going to send hexed Howlers and poisoned letters.

How utterly _delightful!_

"We'll need to increase the security around the grounds," Lucius nodded as he scrawled across a piece of parchment. "We should also think about employing someone from the Ministry to monitor our mail going forward as well. Mmmm… better strengthen the wards around the outer gates, too. You can never be too careful these days…"

Draco's eyes were wide and his mouth hung open as he gaped at his father from the floor.

He looked up, one brow raised, "Why are you still standing there? If you intend on choosing an appropriate jewel for her before you are supposed to meet everyone in London, you'd better get down to the treasury. You have exactly seventeen minutes before they expect you."

His son still looked dumbfounded, "You… you're saying you approve?"

"I am."

"And you understand that I'm giving her this gift with the intention of making her my wife?"

"I do."

"And you realize that she will be the first non-Pureblooded witch to ever marry into the Malfoy family?"

"That fact is rather hard to miss, so yes."

Lucius was a man of many regrets - one of which was the harsh, cold way in which he had been forced to raise his son during the war. But though he regretted many choices, he was suddenly very glad he chose to break Malfoy tradition and openly show affection to his wife in front of his son. He had always loved Narcissa with a fierceness that was often overwhelming, even to himself, and he had never shied away from showing it. He could not remember ever even seeing his parents in the same room, let alone seeing them affectionate with one another, but he could conjure a thousand patronuses with the sheer number of memories he had of kissing his wife or declaring his love for her - often in front of Draco. Lucius had made many, many mistakes, but loving his wife enough to be ready to defy his own father had never been one of them.

The look on his son's face was a mirror-image of his own memory. He loved Hermione the way Lucius loved Narcissa. How could something as insignificant as blood-status matter in the face of something like that? Quite simply, it didn't. Even if they hadn't ended up as soulmates and Draco had still chosen her, Lucius' answer would have been the same.

Besides, he was rather fond of the little lioness already. After all, she had cared for his wife and his ancestral home all while working to free him and his son from Azkaban. That was a rather large blow to his Pureblood supremacist ideals right there. Add in the fact that she really was a lovely girl with a heart far too large for her own good… he'd never stood a chance.

Draco's eyes were glossy and he cleared his throat a few times before getting back to his feet and dusting the knees of his tailored trousers. He looked at the floor for a few more seconds before a broken sound escaped from his throat and he came darting around the desk to throw his long arms around Lucius, "Thank you. I can't even… just… _thank you_."

Tears stung the corner of his eyes but he blinked them away and patted his son's back comfortingly, "The way you look at her is the way I've always looked at your mother, Draco. That kind of love, the kind that you would do anything for, is a rare and precious thing. Despite all my faults, that is something I have always wanted for you. And quite frankly, I'm not entirely sure that there is anyone else in this world quite like our Hermione."

Draco's grip on his father tightened, "She _is_ ours, isn't she?"

He chuckled softly, "She has been for a very long time, I imagine."

The Floo came roaring to life then, Blaise's disembodied head appearing in the emerald flames with a smug smirk, "I think it's safe to assume it went well. You know - I am going to get _so _tired of saying 'I told you so' by the time this is all over and done."

Draco slumped back against the desk and wiped at his wet cheeks as he let out a breathy laugh, "Somehow I find that hard to believe."

"You're right, I live for it. Now get your arse over here before Hermione skins us all for making her miss the previews."

Lucius nudged him towards the Floo, "Go on. You can go through the treasury tonight after she's asleep."

He visibly hesitated.

"I won't change my mind," he assured Draco softly. "I have been waiting for you to approach me with something like this for quite some time. Whatever you think of me, I can promise that Hermione's blood-status is no longer an issue. Your mother and I love her, and we think she will make an exceptionally terrifying Malfoy. We're rather looking forward to it."

That seemed to appease him and Draco smiled - a true, genuine smile - before crossing the room and disappearing into the flames of the Floo.

"Miffy?" Lucius called into the empty office as soon as the flames died away.

The tiny house-elf appeared with a broad smile, "Miffy is here, Master Lucius! What can Miffy do for Master tonight?"

He handed the elf an intricate solid gold skeleton key, "Please leave this in Draco's room. I've given him permission to use it until he finds what he needs."

Miffy's large eyes brightened, "Yes of course, Master Lucius! Miffy will bring it to his room right away!" She tightened her bony fingers around the key, bouncing in place. "Oh yes, Miffy is most excited for another wedding!"

His eyes were still stinging as the house-elf bounded out of the room, "We all are, Miffy. We all are."

x-x-x

"This 'film' is utterly fucking ridiculous," Draco scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Is this what muggles really think we're like?"

Hermione chuckled at his disdain, "I had a feeling you'd like it."

"I have yet to see a single impressive dungeon. And is that _really_ what they think dragons are supposed to look like? Merlin have mercy, it's no wonder Muggle-borns are so amazed by the Wizarding World if _this_ is what they're comparing it to. Is that… is the lipstick supposed to make the villain more menacing? I don't understand this at all. Do you truly find this entertaining? How can you enjoy something with such glaring inaccuracies?"

She shrugged, snuggling further into his side and resting her head on his shoulder. A feeling of warmth and contentment spread through her chest, "It's meant to be silly, Draco. Besides, I'm just happy to be here with you."

His gray eyes softened and he pressed his lips to her forehead before turning back to the screen. It only took a few more seconds for him to snort, "Considering the strength of their Notice-Me-Not charm, I'd say Blaise and Potter are happy to be here together as well. Though I somehow never pegged them as the type for being lascivious in public."

Hermione flushed a little and cleared her throat softly, "Muggles do that sort of thing all the time. It's actually a pretty common occurrence in the back of dark cinemas."

His brows raised as he looked over at her, "But they don't have things like Notice-Me-Not charms… do they?"

"No… they don't."

From the flashes of light on the screen, she could see that his cheeks were tinged pink as well. Hermione's stomach was twisting with desire at the idea of his hands on her, at the idea of him touching her after years of only fantasizing about it, and this time there was no shoving it away behind Occlumency walls. Draco had taken his last dose of suppression potion the previous night and had not requested more from Theo… which meant that his own roaring desire was battering her from the inside out. Draco's eyes met hers for a long moment before he slowly slid his wand from his pocket and muttered his own concealment charm around them. After slipping his wand back into its place, he brought one leg up onto the plush seat and turned to face her.

"D-Draco…" Hermione stammered, her heart hammering thunderously in her chest at his sudden proximity. "We don't have to… I wasn't expecting—"

His pale hand slid from her knee up to her thigh; from her thigh up to her waist; from her waist up to the curve of her neck. His thumb brushed across her cheek as he whispered, "You forgot to use Occlumency, love."

She swallowed thickly, "I…"

"I can feel it - the way you want me…" Draco leaned forward, his lips grazing her jaw. She shivered and he groaned quietly. "Fucking hell, I'm practically drunk on it."

"Draco," Hermione clenched her fists in an attempt at regaining control of herself, "I don't want to rush you."

"I'm not hiding my emotions from you anymore. Do you feel any hesitation? Any fear or uncertainty?"

The pads of his fingers danced across her collarbone and she whimpered.

"Let it consume you, for just a moment," he crooned against her skin. "Dive into what I feel, headfirst, without any restraint for a few seconds and then tell me."

Hermione closed her eyes and dropped the tight leashes of control that she always held onto like lifelines. She abandoned her own emotions, her own thoughts and feelings, in order to fully experience his instead for the very first time. The myriad of Draco's emotions rocked through her and swept across her psyche like a tidal wave. His love for her felt like a blanket of warm silk slipping across her skin and his personal insecurity was like an icy wind across a cold sea. The fierce determination to be healthy and normal prickled at her arms and legs like acupuncture needles and the utter bliss he felt at being hers was like rays of summer sunshine on her face.

But the desire… Gods, the desire for her was like Fiendfyre being cast on the surface of the sun at the height of summer on the equator while being doused in petrol. The flames of his need, his want licked at her skin from the top of her scalp to the tips of her toes. It felt like a nearly sexual _Crucio _\- the height of mind-numbing pleasure and excruciating pain intermingling until they were one in the same. She was drowning in it, suffocating on it, asphyxiated by it - and she never, ever wanted it to end. For years, Hermione had fantasized about Draco but never in all that time had she imagined anything like this. Never had she imagined just what being utterly consumed by him would feel like.

It was like all the drugs and alcohols in the entire world being combined into one heady cocktail and injected directly into her bloodstream.

"Tell me," his voice, like liquid passion, broke through the fog of everything she felt. "Tell me what you felt."

Hermione came back to herself and pressed her thighs together, capable of only whimpering his name, "Draco…"

His fingers twisted around the curls at the nape of her neck and he crashed his lips against hers, his tongue delving into her mouth as if the meaning to life was hidden in a crevice near the back of her throat. She clutched at his arms and Draco groaned, nipping at her lower lip with his perfect teeth. Molten desire pooled low in her abdomen and sent little shivers down her spine as he tugged at her hair possessively. Draco - always cool, ever composed, impeccably calm Draco - dragged his hands across her body almost desperately as his breath came in harsh, ragged pants. The sound of his labored breathing, the knowledge that it was because of how badly he wanted her, ruined whatever was left of her knickers.

His palms cupped her breasts and her head fell back against the chair.

His fingers twisted her nipples and she gasped sharply.

He ripped open the buttons of her sensible shirt and she dug her nails into the skin of his arms.

"I've imagined this a thousand different ways," Draco admitted, his words shaky as he yanked the cups of her bra down to expose her breasts. She cracked her eyes open just enough to see that he was utterly enraptured with the sight of her and she groaned a little, thrusting her chest towards him. His voice cracked, "Merlin have _fucking _mercy on me."

The moment Hermione felt his hands on her bare chest, she mewled like a kitten, "Oh Gods, yessssssss…"

Draco leaned forward to flick the tip of his tongue across one of her nipples and her hand involuntarily moved up to grip his hair in her fist.

He immediately froze, all muscles locking in place as if he were carved from stone.

Hermione's eyes snapped open, "Oh my Gods, Draco I am so sorry. I didn't mean to… it just happened and I—"

Draco's liquid silver eyes flickered up to hers, "Harder."

Her eyes widened, "W-what?"

He very slowly moved closer and tugged one of her nipples between his teeth without ever breaking eye contact, "I said… be a good girl and pull _harder_."

The dark, sensuous timbre of his voice seared across her brain and Gods above, did she ever want anything as badly as she wanted to be his _good girl_? Hermione gave herself over to the desire, to the all-consuming conflagration Draco inspired within her and allowed herself to become a slave to it… just for a little while.

She tugged on his white-blond hair and his eyes slid closed for a quick moment.

One of his pale hands kneaded her breast and the other was undoing the button on her jeans as he smirked, "You can do better than that."

She pulled harder.

Draco visibly shivered but recovered quickly. His fingers paused at the waist of her knickers and their eyes met. One of his brows raised in question.

Hermione bit her lip and nodded fiercely.

His grin was wicked, one - two - three fingers dancing beneath the thin fabric to brush through the neat hair between her thighs before he stopped.

Her entire body was almost vibrating in anticipation for his touch, "Gods, Draco _please_…"

Draco sat up, his lips brushing against her ear as he breathed, "Pull. Fucking. _Harder_."

With that, Hermione twisted her fingers around his silky blond locks and yanked as hard as she could. His eyes rolled back and he let out a sharp hiss before simultaneously lunging forward to capture her mouth in a searing kiss and slipping one of his fingers between her lower lips and into her dripping heat. She gasped into his mouth as he dragged some of the moisture from her channel up to her swollen clit, rubbing in slow, tortuous circles and effectively short-circuiting the neurological pathways in her brain. It was as if his touch was causing all of her synapses to stop firing while also sending them into synchronized overdrive. There was only his hands and his fingers and his lips and his tongue and his eyes and his voice. Nothing else in the world registered anymore. All Hermione knew was that she was on fire and nothing else could possibly scorch her any further.

And then he spoke.

"Years," Draco growled against her mouth. "I've dreamed of touching you for years. Back in school, I imagined dragging you behind one of the tapestries and burying my face in your sweet little cunt until your knees gave out. I imagined fucking you in the Arithmancy classroom while you tried to work out a complicated equation. I imagined making love to you in the Prefect's bath under the moonlight while spilling my heart to you." He slid one finger inside of her, biting his lip when she whimpered again. When her breathing evened out, he gently pushed a second one into her heat and Hermione nearly cried out with the feeling of him stretching her. "I wanked to fantasies of you for years… and now you're finally _mine._ I fantasized about touching you in a hundred different ways… but the reality is so much better than I ever anticipated. You are fucking perfect, my darling Persephone. You are fucking perfect and I am the worst kind of idiot for ever trying to fight this. Can you forgive me?" Draco pumped his two long, slender fingers in and out of her slowly, the heel of his hand pressing against her nub and wringing moans and hisses and mewls from the back of her throat. "I will give you anything your heart desires, anything in the world - all you have to do is ask. My heart is yours to command, Hermione, in any way you see fit. _You have bewitched me, body and soul, and I love, I love, I love you_."

"You," Hermione breathed sharply, her fingers tightening in his hair as the coil of pleasure wound higher and higher and higher. "I just want you, Draco. Just you. Always you. You._You_."

He rubbed against her clit faster, nuzzling against her throat, "You have me, my lovely girl. I'm _yours_."

At that, Hermione felt the coil of searing pleasure snap and her entire world exploded into a brilliant smattering of lights and colors that momentarily blinded her. Her limbs went fuzzy as a harsh, almost painful wave of warmth flooded her from the inside out. From deep beneath the crashing typhoon of bliss, Hermione somehow registered the look of utter reverence on Draco's face as he watched her ride out the very first orgasm he ever gave her against his hand. The way he studied her half-lidded eyes and open mouth, the way his silver irises cataloged every single emotion that flickered across her face, the sheer awe and devotion reflected back at her…

How was it possible to love one person so much? How did her heart have the capacity to contain the way she felt for him? It seemed impossible.

Draco gently removed his hand from her body.

It seemed impossible.

He waved his wand silently to _Scourgify _them both.

It seemed impossible.

He leaned forward and brushed his lips against hers in a chaste, almost shy gesture.

It seemed impossible.

He pulled back and he watched her… waiting…

It seemed impossible.

Hermione couldn't fight the watery smile, though she did her best to hold the tears back.

It seemed impossible.

Draco smiled back with one of his crooked, genuine smiles that she coveted above all others.

It seemed impossible… but the love she felt for him grew a little more anyway.

"I think I like the muggle cinema," Draco smirked at her, straightening his clothes. "We should come here again sometime."

Blaise's dark hand suddenly came down on Draco's shoulder, "Going by the sounds Hermione was making, _coming_ here doesn't seem to be an issue. Your silencing spell, or lack thereof however, could be improved upon."

Hermione blushed furiously as she worked on straightening her own clothes, "Oh Merlin, just kill me now."

Harry chuckled from behind Blaise, one hand rubbing the back of his head awkwardly, "Blaise is right, 'Mione. You're like my sister so I could really go the rest of my life without ever hearing anything like that again."

Draco was completely unrepentant as he shrugged, "You could have silenced us."

"And miss the auditory confirmation that Hermione was finally getting some?" Blaise snorted, rolling his eyes. "Never."

"Told you they were voyeurs," he nudged Hermione's shoulder, winking. "We'll have to be more careful from now on."

"Excuse me, but I believe the exact word you used was 'lascivious'."

Hermione stamped her foot, face burning scarlet, "You were listening from the beginning, you perverts! Gods, I hate you all!"

The three men did a very poor job of stifling their chuckles as they followed the fuming witch out of the cinema and onto the busy London street. Harry wrapped one of his arms around Hermione's shoulders and kissed her temple, "Love you, 'Mione."

Blaise followed suit, wrapping his other arm around her shoulders and pressing a kiss to her opposite temple, "Love you, fiery little Gryffindor."

Draco came up behind her and slid one of his long arms between her neck and shoulder to drape over her chest, kissing the top of her head, "Love you, my darling girl."

Hermione huffed with frustration, "Will you three let go of me? People will think I'm starting a harem!"

Her three boys simply laughed and continued to lead her to the Apparition point with their arms around her.

* * *

***Ok, so the Pride and Prejudice quote is about 5 years too soon for this particular story but, eh. I don't care.***


	9. Chapter 9

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: J.K. Rowling is the sole owner of HP. I'm just playing around.**

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She awoke in the middle of the night, tangled in the moonlit sheets of his bed, to see Draco caressing the sensitive flesh of her cursed scar with agony in his eyes. It took a moment for her to realize just what he was doing but when she did, Hermione cupped his cheek and startled him back to reality.

"Draco…?"

"I didn't mean to wake you," he murmured softly, still refusing to look away from the horrific word. "I just… I had another nightmare. About that day. But you're really here. You're here, with _me _and you're alright."

Hermione nodded, "I am, Draco. I'm here and everything is fine. So just leave Bellatrix and Voldemort and the war in the past where they rightfully belong."

"You were tortured right in front of me," Draco pressed on, voice haunted and pained. A cloud slid in front of the moon and cast shadows over his twisted expression. "You were close enough to touch my shoes as she _Crucio_'d you near death. I could count the thirty-seven freckles across the bridge of your nose as she carved 'Mudblood' into your arm. After years of obsessing over you, years of imagining you, I just stood there and looked away – praying to any gods listening that I wouldn't be next."

Her heart hammered painfully against her ribs as he recounted her torture, anxiety and terror and despair sinking their jaws into her throat and gnawing on her vocal cords. She never spoke of Bellatrix to anyone, not even Harry or Blaise, because it was still too raw and traumatizing, too fresh, for her to truly face with composure. And even though every part of her wished he would stop, even though she desperately wanted Draco to put the horrific memories back into their scarred little box and throw away the key, she knew that she would never ask him to. She had been tortured once – he had faced two years of torture in Azkaban and Merlin only knew how many years of agony before that. So, she would listen. If he needed to speak, she would listen.

"None of that matters anymore, love," Hermione managed. "What's done is done and─"

"I would take your place, if I could," he declared with fierce conviction, trembling fingers falling away from her arm to stroke her jaw instead. "If I had a Time Turner – if I was able to go back and take your place at Bellatrix's feet – I would. If I could take your scars from you, I would Hermione. I _swear_ to you, I would."

His voice cracked and wavered as tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. Hermione pulled his head to her breast, stroking his hair in a soothing motion as she shushed his building sobs. He clung to her, weeping desolately like a child lost at sea and a tiny piece of whatever Bellatrix had broken within her knitted back together, "I am so sorry, Hermione. I don't deserve your forgiveness for the things that I've done but I'm sorry. Name the price of your forgiveness and I'll pay it! Whatever it takes, whatever the cost – name it and it's yours. You already own everything that I am – for whatever little that's worth – but name your price and I'll gladly carve out my soul and lay it bare at your feet."

"There is nothing to forgive you for, Draco," she assured him despite the tears streaking her own cheeks. "I made my peace with the war a long time ago. All I care about now is that you and your family are well; that's the only thing I want."

Draco shook his head against her chest and his typically aristocratic, arrogant voice was dampened with the weight of his past sins, "I will never understand what I did to deserve you. I will never understand why someone so good would be cursed with a Death Eater as their soulmate."

"You aren't a─"

"I was a shitty one, there's no denying that," he acknowledged with an ugly, humorless laugh that seemed to linger in the air, "but I was still a Death Eater, Hermione. The mark on my arm doesn't lie."

A brilliant thought occurred to her then; maybe, just maybe, there was something she could do to help heal this particular piece of his past. She wrapped her fingers around his left arm and was not dissuaded when he tried desperately to yank it away from her grasp, pressing her fingertips into his Dark Mark hard enough to garner his attention. Draco looked up at her with furrowed brows.

"After the Ministry's Christmas ball, why don't I give you your Christmas gift early?"

"Christmas?" He repeated, utterly bewildered. "After everything you've done, why in Merlin's name would you think you needed to give me anything for─"

Hermione smiled and pressed a quick kiss to the tip of his pointy nose. "How do you feel about adding to the piece on your arm?"

"Adding to… the Mark? Adding _what_?"

"I was thinking we could brighten it up a bit. Maybe add some flowers and some color around it – to remind you how you've grown from that time, to help make looking at it more palatable for you. Would you be… amenable to that? Or is that too girly?"

Draco stared at her in apparent shock for a very, very long time before he launched himself at her, slanting his mouth across hers in a harsh, bruising kiss that spoke louder than anything he had physically said. He tangled his long, pale fingers in her curls to secure her face and dragged his tongue across each of her teeth as if to make sure they were all accounted for. Hermione groaned as he shifted his body atop hers and slid his knee deftly between her thighs until it pressed against her most intimate space, sending flares of heat low into her belly and stars dancing across her eyelids.

"You choose," he panted against her lips, nibbling and biting just enough to sting but never enough to hurt. "You choose the colors and the flowers – I love you, my heart, and I want to think of you every time I see it. I need you and I want to think of you every time it feels like too much. I want to understand when I can't remember why I'm still alive."

Draco dragged his lips over her jaw, down her neck, over her breasts and across her quavering stomach with her fingers fisted in his signature hair. His breath ghosted over the line of her knickers and she gasped sharply, tears leaking on the pillow under her head when he slipped them over her legs and threw them somewhere onto the floor. He dove into her dripping folds like a man possessed, feasting on her body as if starved – bruises bloomed against the dark skin of her thighs with the strength of his grip, with his determination to keep her from bucking him off. The slight twinge of pain sent Fiendfyre searing across the neural pathways in her brain and she tugged at his hair, _hard_, just like he had asked for at the cinema. He growled and groaned all the same time, grinding his hips into the mattress as his tongue pressed further into her.

A mind-numbing orgasm washed over her as Draco lapped at the swollen flesh and even as she shattered into a thousand silver pieces, the tears dripped into her hair. Even as he praised her beauty and perfection, as he breathed words of utter devotion and worship and love, the tears would not stop. Even as he kissed her slowly, tenderly, and purred priceless affections into her ear as he pushed his fingers into her wetness, the tears would not stop. His pain was still so raw that when she could feel it, it truly felt like drowning and when he had accepted her gift of another tattoo, the pain Draco carried around like a hairshirt, woven from his sins and failures and wrapped in barbed wire, was almost nonexistent. It almost felt healed.

She had been able to give that to him.

Finally, after two more Earth-shattering orgasms and a rather thorough oral examination of Draco's lower regions, Hermione found herself wrapped in the vice of his arms and lost deep in thought, not at all perturbed by the snores currently in her ear.

Draco's demons always came at night… but when they were close, when they shared their bodies, it felt as though it frightened the demons away a little more each time. Already his nightmares were fewer and less severe. Already, his episodes were almost nonexistent.

A pointy nose dug rather painfully into her neck and Hermione had to resist the urge to laugh at his nonsensical murmuring. Things were hard – they had both been through Hell, after all – and they would remain so for a long time to come but…

They were getting better. Draco was getting better.

Someday, she would make sure those demons never returned at all.

x-x-x

Hermione smoothed the creamy, tightly pleated fabric with her palms, unable to stop admiring the way the silky gown clung to her curves despite the plethora of nervous energy surging through her veins. She adjusted the strapless, sweetheart neckline covering her breasts a few times – though there was really no need seeing as it was held securely in place with magic – before checking and re-checking all possible angles of herself in the mirror. Typically, Ministry events bored her to tears so she rarely made an effort at all other than taking a quick shower (or even just a _Scourgify_ if work kept her too busy) and throwing her hair up but this time… this time she was accompanying Draco and his parents. Not only that, but she was accompanying Draco and his parents as a future member of the Malfoy family and despite how much she wanted Draco, how much she would undoubtedly give up to be with him, the reality of exposing their relationship to the world terrified her. Draco, Lucius, and Narcissa had all been acquitted, their records expunged and place among the side of Light restored, but Hermione was not so naïve as to think that such legalities truly meant anything out in the world.

Draco was still healing mentally and though he was making great strides toward being considered 'normal' and 'well' again, there was still a very long road of recovery ahead of him. Narcissa was working on regaining her confidence and trying very hard to integrate herself into the new Wizarding high-society, but was finding it difficult when the wealthiest, most traditional families discovered the Mudblood now living in the Manor and turned their noses up at her. Lucius, on the other hand, was effectively re-learning how to live without being _Imperius_'d and he sometimes found himself stuck in his own mind, unable to remember how to make choices until someone came upon him and reminded him that the war was now over. Not only all of that, but the Malfoy reputation had taken an absolute beating over the last years of war. Hermione had no problem fighting for the Malfoy's – on the contrary, she loved them all and would gladly resort to all manner of legal and illegal means to protect them – but she would be lying through her teeth if she said she wasn't worried.

Dark wizards and witches still existed; supporters of Voldemort and even Grindlewald still lurked in the shadows. Revealing the depth of her relationship, not only with Draco but with his parents as well, frightened her because she knew very well what those still loyal to the Dark, to the Old Ways, thought of the Malfoy's now. After all, she was typically the one prosecuting them in front of the Wizengamot.

Nausea and anxiety roiled in her gut. Yeah, no pressure _at all_.

Just as she was about to fiddle with her elaborate, perfectly styled up-do for the tenth time, Miffy appeared next to the mirror with a soft _pop!_

"Oh, my new family looks lovely. My new Mistress is beautiful!" The house elf dabbed at her large, glassy eyes with the edge of her tea-towel. "So, so pretty; Master and Mistress will be most pleased! Oh, and this is for Miss – from Master Draco."

Hermione frowned in confusion at the odd lump of jewels Miffy was presenting to her. What in all the hells was Draco doing, giving her a _pile_ of diamonds? Not only was that impractical, but it was confounding as well. What was she supposed to do with an entire _pile _of diamonds? Throw them on her bed and roll in them? Is that what the opulently rich actually did in their spare time? Flabbergasted but not wanting to appear rude, Hermione crouched down and held out her hands but the house elf shook her head.

"Master Draco made Miffy promise to help Miss put it on."

Her eyes widened, "P-put it _on_?" Were they spelled with a Permanent Sticking charm?

The house elf smiled and climbed onto the vanity top, "If Miss would bend this way… and Miss can put her arms through here… yes! A little closer please, so Miffy can get it over Miss's head… there." Once finished, she eyed Hermione with open adoration and nearly melted into the floor as another round of tears sprang to life. "Miss is perfect now."

Even in the somewhat dim candlelight, she could see that there were precious, glittering jewels _everywhere_. Hermione glanced back up at the mirror and felt her jaw slacken, unable to even comprehend what she was seeing. She'd been wrong in her initial assessment: it wasn't a pile of diamonds that Draco had gifted her, but a hand crafted diamond overlay that sat atop her dress like a piece of armor. The gems were molded into breathtaking flowers that rested on her shoulders with verticals rows of sparkling stones cascading overtop and down the valley of her breasts like beads of water. There were only two large, round diamonds on the entire piece – one resting at the base of her sternum and the other above her pubic bone. Smaller rows of connecting diamonds fell in swooping arches across her body, back to chest, linking all of the gems together like some sort of opulent chainmail.

Emotion clogged her throat as she gently fingered the cool diamonds, marveling at how they warmed against her breast. That seemed to be the way of all things in her life, starting out as cool but slowly warming as they remained near to her. Did Draco realize that that was exactly what he had done? What his family had done?

Another uneasy thought occurred to her. Did he… did he realize what message he was sending the Wizarding World by gifting something like this to someone like her?

Miffy brightened the flames in the fireplace and Hermione realized with awe that the two large diamonds were nearly the same color as his hair and the metal welding the entire piece together was the exact silver of his eyes.

Oh yes, he knew. He knew it all.

Hermione swiped at the tears on her cheeks and was immediately thankful that Narcissa had insisted on using a glamour rather than muggle makeup.

Miffy frowned, "Is Miss unhappy?"

"No! No, of course I'm not unhappy, Miffy. I just…" She bit her lip and grazed the glamoured slur with her fingertips surreptitiously, the trepidation and anxiety returning with a vengeance. "I'm not ignorant of Pureblood ways and traditions. I know that me showing up to a Ministry event with Draco and his parents will be scandalous and dangerous for them… but to go wearing something like _this_, meant for… meant for…" Her grip tightened around the cursed word on her arm.

The house elf took hold of Hermione's hand, removing it from the word that had been carved into her as if she were nothing more than an animal to be branded. When she didn't look away from her reflection, Miffy tugged insistently to get her attention. The tiny creature's voice was gentle and her eyes affectionate, "Master Lucius asks to see Miss before the ball. Miss should speak to Master Lucius right away; Miffy thinks it will help greatly."

It took all of her strength to bite back a groan of resignation as she nodded and made for the Floo, "Of course, Miffy. Thank you very much for all of your help."

Miffy simply smiled and bobbed her head with enthusiasm before _popping_ out of existence once more.

Once she was alone, Hermione sagged against the marble mantelpiece, thoughts and stomach roiling in unison. Draco's father may have softened somewhat since his last stint in Azkaban, but Lucius Malfoy, while generally pleasant to be around, was still icy, intimidating, and the physical picture of Pureblood supremacy. Not to mention that she still had nightmares of being tortured in front of his writing desk and she hadn't truly ever been alone with him. Ever. She had spoken to him with others present but that was the true extent of their interactions.

Fear, chilling and sharp, tingled down her spine. Had she done something? Was Lucius worried that she might embarrass them? Was he… was he ashamed of her? Even after she saved them from Azkaban, even after being revealed as his son's soulmate… she would always be exactly what she was. She would always be Hermione Granger – the plain, swotty little Muggleborn. No amount of money or fine things could change what she was and truth be told, she wouldn't want to.

But what did Lucius want? What would it take for him to accept her as a part of their family?

Gods, her psyche and her confidence were taking a serious battering tonight.

Draco's diamonds pressed into her skin, ever so slightly, as she breathed and the nerves abated just a little. Even now, even after everything, Draco surely would have never been able to give her such a gift without his father's permission. So that had to mean _something_.

Hermione scooped a small handful of Floo powder and tossed it into the fire, "The Malfoy Drawing Room."

x-x-x

Lucius had just finished the final flourish on the 'y' in his signature when the Floo came roaring to life. He slid the quill back into its holder and looked up to see his son's future bride step from the hearth, seraphic and otherworldly in her exquisitely tailored gown and hand-crafted chest piece. There was no tamping down his smirk as he caught sight of the two almost obnoxious heirloom diamonds Draco had taken straight from the family vault to the jeweler a few days prior. Though he would never admit it aloud, Draco truly did have superb taste and while the idea of crafting a sort of 'Pureblood armor' for Hermione had rankled his sensibilities at first, Lucius found now that he quite enjoyed the sight of his future daughter-in-law flouting the Old Ways in the name of love.

Narcissa would swoon if she could hear his overly romantic thoughts.

"Hermione, thank you for taking a moment to meet with me," Lucius drawled, leaning back in his large leather chair. "You look absolutely lovely. Narcissa will melt… though I suspect Draco may beat her to it."

She blushed at his compliment for a brief moment before steeling herself by way of clearing her throat and straightening her spine, "Thank you, Lucius. You look very handsome as well."

She only stumbled over his name slightly. Good girl – it wouldn't do for a future Malfoy to appear weak in the face of nerves, especially one as formidable as her.

He tilted his head in thanks before carefully folding his letter and sealing it with the family crest in hot, jade wax, "Now, I understand that we're due at the Ministry very soon, but before we go I wanted to speak with you as we have not yet had the chance. I believe that─"

"I'm sorry!" Hermione blurted suddenly, cheeks burning as she twisted her fingers nervously. "I don't even really know what I'm apologizing for but I know that I'm not… that Draco is… that we─"

Lucius held up a long-fingered hand to stop her, a wry chuckle on his lips. Oh how similar she and Draco were in their thoughts of him! Normally, it would amuse him to string people along in their anxiety but he knew that Hermione was already distressed enough without his teasing. Lucius surveyed the young woman for a moment before he stood and came around to the front of his desk to face her more directly, "Please allow me the chance to finish what I have to say before you respond. From what Draco and Narcissa tell me, this can be somewhat difficult for you, but I must insist."

Hermione pressed her lips together in a determined line, a small furrow between her arched brows as she nodded in acquiescence. To his amazement and pleasure, she kept her gaze firmly locked onto his without even the smallest hint of hesitation.

"Hermione, it would be very easy for me to lie to you. Not only am I a Slytherin, but I have also had many, many years of practice to hone my skills," Lucius leaned against the front of his desk and sighed. "However, seeing as I have been given a second chance with life, I would like to do things a bit differently this time around. So while these things may be difficult for you to hear, in the interest of honesty, it is important for me that you hear them."

She bit her lip but nodded for him to continue.

He clasped his hands in front of him, "I would like to tell you that the _Imperius_ curse that I was under is to blame for everything that happened during the second war but that would be a lie. The _Imperius_ played its role, of course – I certainly would not have remained in the Death Eater's ranks as long as I had were it not for the curse – but the beliefs were still my own. For as long as I can remember, I have believed that Purebloods were better than everyone else. How could I not? I was born into that mentality, raised with it; my entire life was shaped by it. Pureblood supremacy was all my parents taught me and all I ever knew, even when I went away to Hogwarts. Add in the rise of Voldemort during the first war and I became a true, devout believer. I killed people that I felt were beneath me. I killed people, without direct orders, simply because of their blood status… as a sort of _cleanse_, if you will. I killed people of lesser blood status and I felt no regret or remorse in doing so."

Hermione shuddered minutely but otherwise did not react.

"During the second war, I was less certain. I was much more interested in keeping my family safe than rejoining the Death Eaters, but when I tried to remove myself, the first _Imperius_ was cast and the rest is history."

"If I knew who cast them on you, if I was somehow able to find out and they weren't already dead or in Azkaban, I would hunt them down. You know that, don't you?"

The corner of his mouth twitched and his heart warmed, "I do indeed, Hermione. And I thank you for the sentiment that I am not altogether certain I deserve."

It took a moment for him to gather his thoughts and, dare he admit, to gather the courage to speak his next words. Thankfully, the young woman remained silent.

"A few short years ago, I cowered by the mantle as you were tortured in this room – nearly right where you stand now. Do you─"

"I remember," Hermione breathed just a little too quickly. From his periphery, he could see her fingers trembling though she was doing her best to hide it. "I remember."

He didn't like hurting the girl, she was so very dear to his wife and his son after all, but this was necessary if they were to move forward so he pressed on, "Bellatrix was never truly sane, not even before the first war. There was always something too dark, too evil lurking within her that even the Dark Lord could not understand. She thrived off of hurting others, even if they were supposed to be her brethren or her family, and she truly never cared for anyone but herself. I still have nightmares about some of the things she…" Lucius shook his head to stop himself from tumbling into those memories again. "That day, when she brought you to this room for questioning, I knew she was going to kill you. Bellatrix liked to toy with her victims, but she was also quickly bored and often unaware of her own magical strength. Sooner or later, she was going to torture you past the point of return."

"Lucius," she choked, eyes glistening with tears, "why are you telling me this?"

"You were just a Mudblood," he pushed on, refusing to let her warbling words dissuade him. "You were just a lowly, unworthy animal whose dirty blood was staining my oriental rug and I was thankful that Bellatrix had chosen you, rather than myself or my wife or my son. I was thankful that she had tortured you, scarred you, _branded_ you, rather than any of us. After that day, I remained thankful for that for a very, very long time."

Lucius took a deep breath before looking up and though he could hear that she was crying, he didn't expect the sight to affect him as harshly as it did. Hermione's face, typically warmed with compassion and affection, was twisted into a grimace of excruciating pain and it felt like a bludger straight to his stomach. He steeled himself once more before grabbing a tiny potion vial from his pocket and gliding across the room to stand within arm's length of her.

Hermione's hands were clenched into tight fists and she refused to look at him as she desperately tried to tamp down on her tears. He gave her a few more moments to compose herself, murmuring '_Breathe, Hermione. In and out. Breathe' _in a soothing whisper until she had better control.

Once she quieted, Lucius continued gently, "I was thankful for the choice Bellatrix made until the day I learned that you were our attorney. I was thankful until I learned that you were doing everything in your power to save us. I was thankful until I saw the way that my son looks at you, as if you are the only thing that matters in the entirety of his universe. That was the day I realized how wrong I had truly been for my entire life."

She looked up at him, shock clearly written across her tear-stained face, mouth slightly agape, "I-I don't…"

"You, Hermione, have been a gift – a sorely needed blessing – to myself and my family. The way Draco looks at you, the way he loves you - it is the very same way that I feel for Narcissa and that is something I understand above all else," he held out his hand to her, presenting a small triangular vial filled with a violently orange liquid that shimmered in the candlelight. "And while I cannot take back the things that I have said, thought, or done in the past, it is my hope that this token of appreciation will be a new beginning for us. That perhaps this will prove that your blood status is no longer of consequence to me and that I welcome you with open arms."

"Lucius..." Hermione took the potion and titled it left and right, observing the viscosity and contents with a careful, discerning eye. She removed the cork and inhaled deeply, brows furrowing when she could not determine what it was, "I recognize the individual ingredients but I don't think I've ever smelled this combination before. Please don't mistake my curiosity for ungratefulness but… what is it? What does it do?"

"I would be disappointed if you trusted a past enemy so easily," Lucius smiled, genuinely, for the first time in many years. Oh, how this girl continued to amuse him! "Simply put, it is my dearest, dearest hope that this potion will convey to you how I truly feel about you becoming a Malfoy. It is made from rather dubious magic but it can be our secret." He winked and removed his wand, encircling her wrist with his fingers. "May I?"

She held her arm stiffly in place, "Dubious magic? As in, you want me to drink a mysterious potion made from _Dark_ magic?"

"No, not Dark. More… gray than anything."

"Lucius, I…"

"You are Draco's soulmate," he interrupted, much more serious now, "and you are very, very close to Narcissa's heart. No matter what you think of me, Hermione, you must know that I would never betray you after all you have done for us. As I am not good with apologies, this was the only way I could think to bridge the divide between us before we could move forward. I will only ask once and if you say no, I will have the potion destroyed and we will never speak of this again. But I must ask – will you please trust me?"

Hermione watched him for what felt like an eternity, her cinnamon eyes flitting across his face as if the answers would appear written on his skin if she only focused hard enough. It was amazing to watch as she came to her decision; the fire and determination in her gaze returned, her spine straight and tall as she allowed him to tug at her wrist until her forearm was bared to him in trust.

Lucius lifted his wand and placed the tip against her delicate skin, dragging it down her forearm in a straight line as it removed the glamour over her cursed scar. Her breath caught slightly as the angry, swollen wound appeared but she never looked at it.

"I cannot rectify the past, but there are certain pieces of it that I can heal. Drink the potion, Hermione, so that Bellatrix will have one less hold over you."

There was no denying that he felt an enormous sense of pride as Hermione lifted the vial to her lips and swallowed the potion without hesitation. She gasped, her free hand clapping over her mouth as the ugly, misshapen 'Mudblood' carved into her arm slowly healed, letter by letter, until it had disappeared completely. The bronzed skin was now clear and smooth, as if the word had never been there at all.

"Welcome to the family, Hermione," Lucius cleared his throat and let go of her wrist, fiddling with his pristine robes and hair to dispel the odd lump of emotion that had become firmly lodged in his throat. "And I hope, that in time, you can learn to forgive─"

Before he could finish, she was already sobbing into his shoulder, arms tight around his back like a vice as she thanked him over and over… though he was not entirely sure that he had actually done anything to deserve the thanks of a warrior like her. Lucius knew that he would never truly be able to atone for all of his wrongdoings, but this felt like as good a place to start as any; she was going to be his daughter-in-law soon, after all.

The door to the drawing room opened quickly, "Are you two ready? We are to meet Draco at the Ministry in─" Narcissa stopped, a most lovely grin spreading across her painted lips as she took in the sight before her. "I take it our gift was well-received."

Lucius simply shrugged, albeit a little sheepishly as Hermione untangled herself from his stilted embrace.

"I can never thank you both enough," Hermione sniffed, wiping at her cheeks before hugging his wife tightly as well. "You have no idea what this means to me."

"Nonsense, darling – there is no need to thank us for anything when you were the one who gave us our life back," Narcissa cooed, patting the younger woman's back affectionately and planting a soft kiss against her temple before ushering her to sit down in one of the plush armchairs near the fire. "Now, let's touch up your makeup glamour before we head to the Ministry. This is your first appearance as a Malfoy, after all."

"Yes," Hermione nodded, a confident fire in her smoldering in her eyes, "the first of many."

Lucius bit the inside of his cheek to stifle his happiness, determined to keep himself somewhat composed, as he turned to hand the letter he'd finished to the tawny owl resting on its perch beside the desk. Now that the final arrangements for increased security had been sent, perhaps it was time to think about Christmas. He'd gotten Narcissa an island a few years before the second war for Christmas and that had pleased her – perhaps he should do the same for Hermione? Perhaps that would help to cement his sincerity? He thought back to Narcissa and Blaise complaining about how the young woman often forgot to look after herself while she fought for others, sometimes even collapsing with exhaustion as a result.

He quickly glanced over his shoulder to see Narcissa absolutely fawning over the girl and Hermione, in turn, hanging on her every word as if… as if she were truly a part of the family now.

That settled it, then. He would write to his property agent in the morning and request to purchase the loveliest island available and have it outfitted with amenities immediately.

Narcissa looped her arm through Hermione's and they stepped into the emerald flames of the Floo together, heads bent and giggling like long-time friends.

Lucius felt his heart give a rather painful squeeze. Perhaps he could wrap the island's Portkey with a bow.


	10. Chapter 10

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: J.K. Rowling is the sole owner of HP. I'm just playing around.**

***Thank you for taking this wild journey with me.***

* * *

Draco Malfoy was absolutely, resolutely _not_ nervous. He scoffed at very thought, straightening his pristinely tailored robes and eyeing his polished manicure with practiced appreciation. With the flick of a delicate wrist, the creases in his fitted trousers smoothed and his hand-crafted leather Italian shoes shone like a freshly-minted galleon. Why in all the hells would he be nervous? He was almost mythically handsome and fabulously wealthy, with a razor-sharp intelligence and wit to match. Any witch would be lucky, _blessed_, to be graced with someone like him and it wasn't arrogance to simply recognize his own quality…

Hermione stepped through the Ministry Floo on his mother's arm in a Grecian gown that molded to her body like a second skin, wearing the diamond chest piece that had nearly cost Hagrid's weight in gold… their soulmate mark gleaming silver against the dark skin of her arm and as if he'd just imbibed a clarity potion, Draco knew.

He was – and forever would be – nothing without her.

The lovely, ferocious little Gryffindor that had plagued his thoughts and dreams for years, that always bested him in every subject, that bled and nearly died for the Light on his drawing room floor owned him completely, body and soul. There was no fighting it, no denying it as he had when he first recognized her voice from the bed at St. Mungo's. She glanced up to see him, awestruck and gawking, and as Draco found himself pinned beneath her shy gaze there was no uncertainty or fear; no rebellion or doubt left within him.

Hermione Granger – possibly the single most irritating, swotty little know-it-all in the entire universe – was everything. She was his sun, his moon, his stars and constellations and planets. She was the light and the dark, the day and the night. She was his blood and breath and Draco would damn his own soul if she asked him to. He would drink unicorn blood just for the chance to have her forever. He would create a horcrux or seven or a hundred if that was what it took to keep her for eternity.

Alright, so maybe he was a little nervous.

There was a harsh clap against his back followed by a wolf-whistle, "Well I'll be damned, Drake; you certainly know how to clean up when the occasion calls for it. And since she froze me out of any inside information, I have no choice but to ask – how are things with our lovely little lioness? Any progress since the cinema or is she still flying high from the only orgasm she's probably ever had in her entire life?"

"If you prefer your genitals to remain where they belong, Zabini, I suggest you never speak of her that way again," Draco elbowed Blaise in the stomach but never looked away from her. "And there _has_ been progress, not that it's any of your fucking business, so do me a favor and focus on your own sex life, rather than mine."

Blaise whooped with laughter even doubled over as he was with pain, "_Your_ sex life? As in – you finally have one? Thank Merlin; I was certain Hermione was going to spontaneously combust before you ever took a more permanent stroll into her knickers."

Finally summoning the strength to tear his gaze away from his Goddess, Draco turned a steely glare to Blaise, "Do you really think that just because we're at the Ministry, at a formal holiday function, that I won't punch you? Have you forgotten Hogwarts already?"

"I know it can be hard but do you think you could leave his face intact for tonight?" Harry sidled up to the duo sheepishly. "The Prophet is bound to take our picture and I really don't fancy facing an inquiry at work because my boyfriend has a black eye."

Draco snorted, rolling his eyes, "Then tell your boyfriend to quit being vulgar─"

"Good evening boys," Narcissa interrupted with a serene smile, slipping her arm into the crook of his father's. "Apologies for our tardiness but we had a gift for our darling Hermione that simply couldn't wait."

"I'm glad you finally gave it to her," Blaise flashed a toothy grin and winked at Hermione when she rolled her eyes with an exasperated smirk. "No apologies necessary, Narcissa. We were just─"

"W-what gift?" Draco demanded as an old fear, jagged and icy, slithered down his spine. "What did you give her?" He knew his parents had changed, that they no longer cared about blood status and adored Hermione, but even though the logical part of his brain knew that with absolute certainty there was always a tiny, miniscule part of him that worried: _What if? _Did they truly care for her? Would they continue to care for her even if he wasn't around? Would his father's mind eventually fail him, as it sometimes did these days, and would he spit at her? Curse her? _Harm_ her? The Ministry's Christmas-themed Atrium seemed to spin around him as each jagged breath came faster and faster. Static tingled at his fingertips and he clutched at his chest; why couldn't he breathe? What was wrong with his lungs? There was a weight on his shoulder and he flinched away from it, thoughts that smelled of damp stone and Azkaban and starvation and Tibbs sliding across his consciousness like a shroud. _Don't touch me, I might break. There is no surviving this – it's too much. Death Eater scum, pretty boy trash, useless coward…_

He could hear someone, far away, barking quick instructions in a shrill, no-nonsense tone, "Blaise, don't touch him – he just needs space to regain his bearings. You all go ahead, we'll meet you in the ballroom."

"Will he be alright?"

"It's a panic attack, Harry. He gets them from time to time. Like Hermione said, he just needs some space. Give her a few moments with him and he will be fine. You two greet the Minister and let him know we've all arrived. Lucius, darling, shall we find our tables?"

Panic. That's what this was. Draco knew that the way he was feeling, that the thoughts battering his psyche were irrational and unfounded, but he couldn't drag himself away from the swirling black abyss that was clawing at his heart. He _knew_ his parents loved her, he _knew_ they would never hurt her now, but something within him refused to _understand_.

Two small, soft hands pulled and pushed at his clenched fists and after a few moments of gentle murmuring in his ear – _I love you, I'm here, I love you, I'm here, come back, come back – _his vision slowly returned. Draco saw the round marble edge of the fountain behind his knees and felt the cool stone under him. Hermione was kneeling on the Atrium floor in her exquisite gown, eyes wide and full of a pain he wished he could take into himself.

"Draco? Are you alright?" The pads of her thumbs swept across his knuckles. "Where did you go?"

"I don't know what happened," Draco cleared his throat and felt his cheeks burning as reality hit him. He groaned, face falling into his hands. "How fucking embarrassing. I can't even go out in public without falling apart."

Hermione nudged his knee, "Don't be ridiculous – your family and friends understand and they don't judge you. They know you're healing so don't bother worrying about that. Now tell me, what was it? What upset you?"

His voice was small and he refused to look up at her, "The thought of you being alone with my parents, with them giving you some mysterious _gift_ that I had no knowledge of just…"

She tilted his chin so he was forced to look at her, "What?"

"It sent me back to a time where you were just 'Mudblood'."

Typically, the word would send her reeling; he struggled to even recall a time when it didn't. That was the entire point of that word, after all – speaking something so hateful, so heinous and ugly that it immediately put someone lesser back in their place. Back in the dirt where they belonged with their muddy, tainted blood.

To his immense disbelief, Hermione simply smiled and the expression was full of the kind of devotion he never imagined could be directed at him, "While I certainly appreciate that you love me enough to worry, I can promise that your father was nothing less than a perfect gentleman." At Draco's widened eyes, she nodded. "Yes, I met with your father alone and he didn't hex, maim, or otherwise injure me so everything is fine. Is that what you were afraid of?"

The discomfort was evident as he swallowed thickly, "I love my father but sometimes… sometimes I worry that he'll slip back into his old ways. His mind isn't quite as sharp some days and I would never forgive myself if something happened to you because he simply forgot what year it was."

"Mmmm," Hermione hummed thoughtfully. "I've seen the Healer notes and I don't think his mind-slips are really like that. He doesn't seem to forget times and places, just _how_ to think for himself and make choices on his own. None of the Healers ever deemed him dangerous and he really is trying to make things right with me, Draco. For us. I know it's difficult but please, have a little faith in him."

Draco chuckled, cupping her cheek and swiping his thumb over the delicate skin, "I never imagined I'd see the day when you defended Lucius Malfoy to his only son."

"That's because his gift went a long way towards restoring my own faith in him," she held out her arm – the one not bearing their soulmate mark, the one she always kept glamoured. "Look."

His long, pale fingers snaked around her wrist and he took a slow, deep breath to prepare himself before shifting his steely gaze to the horrific scar that always shredded his heart as if it were being carved into her all over again.

Where was the scar?

Draco leaned closer, brows furrowed in concentration as he studied her forearm. Whenever a glamour was used, a person's skin would shimmer slightly; hardly enough to notice from a distance but always apparent up close.

There was no shimmer.

"I don't understand," he croaked with a shaky, warbling voice. Those aristocratic fingers that he was so proud of trembled and slipped across her arm but felt nothing other than silk. He could always, _always_ feel it – Bellatrix's knife had left the scar rough, uneven, and jagged. He should be able to feel the serrated edges of each letter. Now, there was nothing. "Hermione, where is it? If there's no glamour…"

"It's gone," when he looked up at her, her eyes were shimmering. "Your father healed it for me – not because he's ashamed of what I am, but because he didn't want Bellatrix to have any hold on me anymore. He said he wanted to heal the past." Hermione cupped his jaw. "I've searched for a remedy for years – consulted with any potioneer I could find, some in remote corners of the planet – and still came up empty. I don't know how he managed it, but Lucius did something that even the most accomplished healers said was impossible. I'm… I'm _me_ again. I still have other scars, but I never have to see that heinous word again. He gave a stolen part of my identity back, Draco; how can you possibly doubt his sincerity after that?"

_Click. Click. Click._

It was nearly palpable as, with each word she spoke, his own ravaged pieces of himself fell back into place. Azkaban was a fading memory, the icy shards of hopelessness and prayers for death slipping back into the darkness where they came from. Much like his father's gift, Hermione's mere presence had given him bits and pieces of his identity back. Every time he caught a glimpse of the soulmate mark on her arm, Tibbs' malicious, hateful words grew a little quieter. Every time she touched him, he found it harder and harder to remember what that sick fuck's hands felt like. Every time she smiled like he was Merlin's gift to the world, it was easier to believe that maybe, just maybe, life was worth living after all.

The lump of emotion in his throat was near suffocating so he did what all Slytherin's knew best – purposely ruined the moment to regain some semblance of control, "Should I be worried that you're going to run off with my father in the dead of night, leaving me heartbroken and despondent?"

"Yeah, you're just fine," Hermione burst out laughing, shaking her head and shoving him with her shoulder. "Welcome back, git."

"He can be rather charming – maybe we should move away from the Manor?" Draco threaded their fingers together and pulled himself up, unable to resist pressing a bold kiss to the side of her neck on his way. Dark, smoldering embers sizzled deep within his abdomen at the smell of roses on her skin, "On second thought, perhaps I should just keep you locked in my bedroom under some sort of binding spell for the rest of time… just to be safe."

She snorted, "I'd like to see you try."

He didn't miss the way her voice cracked and cheeks flushed at the thought of him binding her. A sensuous smirk spread across his lips – what a daring little lioness she was! As they started towards the celebration, Draco untangled their hands and pressed his fingers into the small of her back as if to guide her. Hermione looked mildly annoyed until he slid his hand lower, fingertips just brushing against the curve of her lovely arse. He could feel her molten gaze on him but he simply continued walking as if unaware of the effect his touch was having on her.

Had his tailored trousers always been so uncomfortably tight? Sweat beaded at the back of his neck and it was near impossible to remain composed but he drew on years of Pureblood etiquette training to remain, seemingly, unaffected. When she finally looked away, Draco's inner dragon growled as his hand moved lower, his grip now significantly tighter, and Hermione stumbled right before the open doorway to the ballroom – only just avoiding falling face-first to the floor because of his quick reaction to steady her.

This time, Draco couldn't contain his breathy chuckle, "Everything alright?"

"Arse," Hermione's blush was burned across the bridge of her freckled nose. "You are still, without a doubt, the most infuriating person I've ever known."

"Perhaps," he shrugged, unconcerned, as they crossed the threshold into the – he _knew_ it – _ghastly_ Christmas-themed ballroom, picking up a glass of champagne and handing it to her before taking one for himself. The words scorched his tongue as he breathed into her ear. "But that doesn't negate the fact that you want me to bind you. Tell me, my prim and proper girl, did you fantasize me using magic or muggle means? Were you naked? Did you _beg_?"

Hermione choked on her drink just as Blaise approached them, "You okay, Hermione? You look a little…" His dark eyes shifted to Draco's lascivious smirk momentarily before grinning. "…_hot_."

As his fiery little Gryffindor threw some rather choice vocabulary – the most _colorful_ of which she almost certainly got from Blaise and himself – at his mirthful friend, Draco looked across the room to see his parents mingling, albeit slightly uncomfortably, with Molly and Arthur Weasley. If he had been proud of his father for the gift he'd given Hermione, he was even more so now at the sight of the former Death Eater putting up with quite possibly the world's most intolerable family with a near smile on his face. Lucius glanced up, catching his son's eye, and gave him an almost imperceptible shrug – as if to say, 'this is the way of things now, what can you do?'

Once upon a time, Draco could have named all of his demons individually. Now, with Hermione on his arm and his parents re-shaping themselves to fit the new world, he was starting to forget what they even looked like.

x-x-x

The Ministry's ball was atrocious and gauche, with chintzy, cheap decorations that looked like something a muggle would imagine during a fever dream – exactly as he'd feared it would be. Various members of the Order gave speeches before dinner about the war and its aftermath, always sugar-coating the reality of it all with colorful euphemisms and barely veiled circumlocutions – their haunted, downcast eyes never quite reaching the table that held the Malfoy's. Apparently, it didn't matter that two-thirds of the Golden Trio sat with them, heads held high and spines straight. Apparently, it didn't matter that two-thirds of the Golden Trio had defended them in court with memories and Veritaserum to back their claims.

Funny how the high-and-mighty never cared about their last name when it came to the generous donations, though.

Once Minister Shacklebolt retook his seat, blubbering rather inelegantly into a handkerchief, an unappetizing array of food items appeared on the table but none of them moved.

Lucius was the first one to break the tense silence, "Well, that was… interesting."

"It was better than I expected," his mother admitted softly, emotions warring across her lovely face. "We are the only ones from _his_ side that were even invited, after all."

In a surprising display of emotion, Harry slammed his hand down on the table with undisguised disgust. Draco could see Hermione fuming silently as well, a matching look of disdain clouding her features. All four of the Slytherins eyed each other wearily – this type of treatment was nothing new to them, having been subjected to similar conduct from the moment they were Sorted into the 'wrong' house. Blaise just covered Harry's hand with his own in a silent show of understanding and his father slid an arm around Narcissa's shoulders. Draco gently squeezed Hermione's thigh but she was having none of it; she shoved away from the table and stormed towards the head table where the remaining Order members sat together, Harry immediately on her heels.

Blaise leaned back in his chair, "Planning to intervene here, Drake?"

Draco shook his head, rather enjoying the way Hermione nearly glowed with the ferocity of her magic in anger, "I've made my peace with the way things are. If they want to take on an unwinnable battle, they are more than welcome─"

"Oh look darling," cooed Narcissa, batting her eyes dreamily with awestruck reverence, "they're giving back their Order of Merlin."

Draco and Blaise shot to their feet in alarm to see both Harry and Hermione tossing the ribboned lumps of circular metal onto the table in front of the Minister, shocking everyone within hearing distance. Shacklebolt held up his hands, clearly trying to placate them, but it only took a few moments for Hermione to whip out her wand and blast the medals to ash, leaving nothing but smoking ruins on the tablecloth.

They all sat, stunned, until Harry and Hermione returned to their seats and, as if nothing had ever been amiss at all, began putting items from the spread onto their plates. Draco felt like he was in a dream – how could this possibly be real?

"Peas, Harry?"

"Thanks, 'Mione. Can you also hand me one of those puddings?"

"Sure – here you go."

Blaise leaned forward, "Not to test my luck or anything, considering the way you obliterated those poor medals, but I think we'd all like to know just what the _fuck_ that was."

Hermione paused, fork halfway to her mouth, as if surprised to see him there. She looked utterly puzzled, "Were we supposed to just sit, silent and complacent, as those vile hypocrites patted themselves on the back while pretending that the war _wasn't_ won on the backs of Malfoys? Draco refused to positively identify us at Malfoy Manor and Narcissa lied to Voldemort about Harry being dead – which part were we supposed to let them gloss over?"

"I'm not saying you're _wrong_," Blaise chuckled, still caught in a haze of disbelief, "but you do realize that you just reduced your Order of Merlin, First Class, to ashes in front of the entire Order, the Minister of Magic, the entire Ministry, and at least three newspaper journalists over the Malfoy family?"

Harry slid a piece of steak into his mouth, "Don't forget the part where she told them all they could – what was it, 'Mione? – oh yeah, 'fuck off with their accolades until they managed to acquire some basic human decency'."

Draco was floored, left utterly baffled by the entire exchange. No one ever defended a Malfoy, not even those they had considered 'friends'; Blaise was quite literally the one and _only _exception to that steadfast rule. It seemed like no matter which side they were on, Dark or Light, they were good for nothing but their money, connections, and status. That had always been the Azkaban guards' favorite taunt – _worthless little pretty boy, good for nothing but money and a shameful fuck in the dark_…and for a very, very long time, he had agreed. Tibbs' may no longer be a threat, yet his words continued to haunt the darkest corners of Draco's nightmares even after coming home. Many of his demons seemed to wear the sadistic guard's face.

But now, with this beautiful, avenging Valkyrie by his side, draped in his family's diamonds and marked with his dragon on her arm… Draco finally felt like he was worth _something_, like everything he'd been through had been for a reason. More broken pieces of himself fused back together at the indignance in her eyes – astounded to realize that she quite literally could not comprehend a situation in which she wouldn't come to their defense.

If this woman was the reward for suffering through Voldemort and Azkaban and Tibbs, Draco would willingly pay that price a thousand times over.

He turned to Hermione, fully expecting her to blush at Harry's recount of her vulgarity as she typically did, but there was no shame, no remorse to be found this time. Hermione looked right back at him, eyes and voice unwavering, "They _will_ see the truth, Draco. Whether they want to or not."

"And if they refuse?"

She shrugged, a determined glint in her molten eyes while her fingers traced his jawbone, "Then I have all the time in the world to force the issue."

His father broke out laughing, the sound much lighter and more joyous than he'd ever heard throughout the entirety of his life, "What did I tell you, son? Exceptionally terrifying Malfoy, indeed."

"You got that one right, Lucius," Blaise chuckled. "But I gotta say, she's _always_ been terrifying. You should have seen the rampage she went on when you two were sentenced to Azkaban."

Harry shivered, "I'd almost forgotten about that."

"Oh yes, I remember," Narcissa gave a dreamy little sigh. "She burst through the Floo with such force that it took the house elves two months to repair the damage. Even then, it still acts up from time to time if you don't enunciate properly."

Something in Draco broke. Completely uncaring that they were in a room full of people, that there were journalists everywhere, that his parents, best friend, and irritating Saint Potter were all sitting at the same table, he leaned forward and caught Hermione in a fierce, bruising kiss that wrung a gasp from her throat, hand gripping the back of her neck as if afraid she would suddenly disappear without him to anchor her there. Somewhere in the background he could hear Blaise's annoyingly garish wolf-whistle and his mother nearly swooning over the open display of affection but none of it even remotely mattered.

Hermione was his soulmate and for the life of him, Draco could not remember a single reason why he had ever tried to fight it in the first place. There was nothing that had ever felt as real or as _right_ as it felt when they were together. This was truly the way it was meant to be.

"Fucking hell, Granger," he murmured against her mouth, nipping at her lips until she opened them for him. He swept his tongue across hers, cataloguing the ridges of her teeth and the dips of her mouth until he felt drunk on the taste. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

"Mmmm," she groaned as he pulled her closer. His fingers dug into her hips possessively and an almost crippling wave of Fiendfyre ripped across his nerves when he felt the ends of the diamond chestpiece, marking her as his intended for anyone who knew the Old Ways. "We're in public, Draco. I'd bet people are staring and taking pictures for _The Prophet_."

"Fuck them, I don't care. Let them print whatever trash they want," he pressed his lips against the corner of her mouth, up the line of her jaw, then to the shell of her ear. "All the better for me if they _do_ print pictures of us like this. After all, I wouldn't want anyone thinking they could put their hands on my future wife, would I?"

Her breath caught and she cleared her throat a little, "That's funny; I don't recall you ever asking me to be your wife."

Draco's laugh was breathy and rough as he fingered the diamonds resting across the swell of her breast, "Pureblood tradition dictates that a piece of jewelry be crafted from a family heirloom, gifted to the intended, and worn in public for the world to see. By wearing this tonight, you've already answered my question… Lady Malfoy."

Never one to do what he expected, Hermione broke into a wide smile and, without letting him out of the circle of her arms, turned to Harry over her shoulder, "You owe me twenty galleons."

"I called it!" Blaise pounded the table once with his fist, whopping with glee, "Damn it, Harry – I told you!"

Lucius was doing a rather poor job of hiding his grin behind his hand and Narcissa was nearly bouncing in her seat with excitement, though she was doing her best to restrain herself.

Draco was, once again, confused, "Wait… you already knew?"

Blaise clapped him on the back, "I hate to ruin the seduction thing you were going for man, but this _is_ Hermione Granger, bookworm extraordinaire, we're talking about here. She probably knows more about Pureblood traditions than you do now."

She had the decency to look slightly sheepish when he gawked at her, "I just wanted to be prepared for my first appearance with your family. The jewelry thing just happened to take up a pretty large portion of the books I read."

"But I don't understand… aren't you angry? I was fully prepared for you to hex me for taking the choice from you in such an archaic manner. That wasn't going to stop me," he admitted without an ounce of repentance, "but I was ready for the worst regardless. Why are you so…. accepting?"

Hermione smirked, lightly gripping his chin with the tips of her fingers as she leaned in. When she was close enough to feel the little puffs of his breath on her mouth – the sultry, smoldering in her eyes sending shivers down his spine and blood to his cock – she breathed, "Nothing was taken from me at all. If I hadn't wanted this, wanted _you_, I would have never put it on in the first place. You _are_ my choice, Draco."

He groaned just a little, the sound weak at the back of his throat, and nearly everyone at their table broke into guffaws of laughter again.

"She has him completely wrapped around her finger," Blaise snorted, finally interested in the food that was, thankfully, charmed to remain fresh and warm. There was a collective murmur of happy agreement.

As Hermione kissed him again with her fingers gripping his chin in an unmistakable display of possession, Draco found that he couldn't even argue.

She owned him and he had never felt more thankful for anything in his entire life.

x-x-x

He'd been preparing to ask her about leaving the Ministry for his Curse-Breaking business venture when a heavily pregnant Ginny Weasley had come to their table, gushing over Hermione's gown and talking a mile a minute about her brothers and Merlin knew what else. Hermione had simply given him an apologetic smile as the younger girl forcibly dragged her across the room to the throng of Weasley's that were congregated near the open bar. It seemed innocent enough at first, the mass of ginger-haired siblings and parents crowding around Hermione to _oooh_ and _ahhh_ over the dress, the diamonds, and the mark she so proudly displayed. Everything was fine, everyone was cordial, and no hexes were needed.

Then the youngest weasel boy, the one that used to make up the remainder of the Golden Trio, had appeared seemingly out of nowhere – utterly drunk off his lumbering arse – and put his filthy peasant hands on her. As if she were not an old friend, but an old possession; one that he would very much like to re-acquire.

It all happened very fast then. There was a flurry of movement as both Blaise and Harry tried to restrain him but nothing short of death would have stopped him from reaching her in that moment. That was how he found himself, wand out and tip digging violently into a thick, freckled throat, with serious contemplations of murder whipping across his thoughts at near light-speed. _Hundreds of Ministry employees but many too cowardly to use their wands on a Malfoy. Perhaps five or six real threats, all Order members. Three exits, ten windows. Apparition wards ineffective outside; fifteen Floos but all would immediately be disabled. With a Disillusionment charm, the balcony could be reached - at a run - in under thirty seconds. Emergency portkey to the Unplottable house back at the Manor in the third kitchen cabinet from the right, near the sink. Three seconds to kill him, a few more before others would react..._

"Someone do something before he hexes my boy!" Molly Weasley flapped her hands anxiously, eyes wide. "Arthur, stop this!"

Her husband, much to Molly's chagrin, didn't move, "I've warned Ron about his temper, love. This was bound to happen eventually."

"Ron's an idiot," one of the twins said, the other nodding in agreement, "but I don't think it's really worth another stint in Azkaban, mate. 'Mione already got you out once, do you really want to chance it again?"

Draco could still feel the violent adrenaline coursing through his veins, a red haze still clouding his vision. He pressed the tip of his wand against the fucker's larynx a little harder, sneering when the prick had the gall to actually wince. How dare he? How dare he fucking _wince_ when that pale ginger fuck had the nerve to grab his woman - his _wife_? He should skin the bastard alive for even thinking _he could ever_─

"Draco," dusky fingers wrapped around his wrist and with the sound of her voice, all thoughts of murder and escape routes vanished like ash in the wind. "Please put your wand away. The sentiment is appreciated but it's entirely unnecessary, I promise."

Even as his arm lowered of it's own volition, he snarled at the drunk weasel, "He _grabbed_ you."

"He did," she agreed calmly. "That being said, I've already handled it."

"Oh? Do tell, because it didn't look handled to me!"

"Hermione's always been good at wandless magic," Ginny cut in with a hand on her swollen belly, not the least bit concerned about her drunk brother who was grumbling from his place on the polished floor. "He was on the ground two seconds after grabbing her arm."

"I can see that," Draco growled, gaze cutting back to the intoxicated moron, "Though I'm underwhelmed that your repertoire of wandless magic only goes so far as to knock someone over who can barely stand in the first place. Perhaps you do need a defender after all."

Hermione raised a single brow and crossed her arms over her chest, "I didn't knock him over. I hexed his genitals into another dimension, though I don't imagine he'll notice until he sobers up."

Every single one of the Weasley siblings, including the prissy Percy, broke in raucous gales of laughter. Even Arthur was doing his best to hide the laughter shaking his shoulders. Molly looked near apoplectic but one of the older children simply assured her, in hushed tones, that the hex was temporary and would not hamper the idiot's ability to father children in the future.

Draco had to admit, he was impressed. His aristocratic Malfoy demeanor fell back into place like a well-worn mask and he leaned back on his heels, hands slipping into his pockets, "My apologies, Granger. I stand corrected – I had no idea you had it in you."

"Bet she's had 'lot o' stuff in 'er, fuckin' slut," the weasel garbled drunkenly, head lolling against the wall. "'Mione Granger, Death Eat'r whore and class A bitch. Must be a good fuck to put up with her shit, eh Ma'foy?"

He didn't even have time to draw his wand before Hermione's fist connected with her ex-friend's mouth, sending his sweaty head bouncing against the wall as if it were made of rubber and not granite. The drunken boy's lip split, blood trickling down his chin as he spat a chunk of tooth onto the floor.

By the time everyone realized what had occurred, Hermione was gone, Ron was unconscious, and Draco had a cock so hard he was forced to murmur a Notice-Me-Not charm on the front of his trousers.

"She went towards the balcony," Ginny whispered at his shoulder, not looking up as to remain discreet as her older brothers laughed themselves to tears. "She'll pretend like she's okay, but Ron's words always had a knack for cutting her in the worst ways – he was almost proud of it. I know that you love her, just… please take good care of her. She deserves it."

"Believe me, I intend to," he nodded minutely, turning towards the balcony before pausing. If his father could turn over a leaf, maybe he could too - to prove to Hermione that he really was trying. Draco cleared his throat gently. "My mother always had the apothecary in Knockturn Alley make a special peppermint tea that was the only cure for her morning sickness. Tell them I sent you and they will make it, free of charge."

"That would be fabulous actually, thanks," Ginny smiled, finally looking at him. "I can definitely see why she likes you."

"I regret this already. Forget I even said anything."

"Not a chance!" She called as he strode across the ballroom towards the billowy curtains that led outside. "You're the best, Draco Malfoy, and I'll make sure the whole world knows it!"

On the outside, he was cringing and sneering as he pushed through the crowd. Inside, more of himself clicked back together. Maybe he really _could_ do this. Maybe someday, people would finally accept that he wasn't some cruel, unfeeling monster.

Maybe.

x-x-x

She was standing at the furthest corner of the balcony and even from a distance he could see that her knuckles were white from gripping the railing so tightly. Every instinct within him wanted to run back inside and beat the drunk little shit within an inch of his life for wounding her with his careless words and he would have had Ginny Weasley not imparted some unexpected information.

_She'll pretend like she's okay, but Ron's words always had a knack for cutting her in the worst ways – he was almost proud of it._

That was the part that, after all this time, still baffled him beyond comprehension. How had Hermione – his strong, brilliant, fierce, loving woman – let such a fool treat her like that for so many years? Of course he hadn't forgotten how awful _he_ had been to her – that was one of the many reason she was far too good for the likes of him – but Weasley had been her friend, one of her very _best_ friends, and he still treated her worse than Draco had ever treated Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy at their worst. He could still viscerally remember the way Hermione had looked at the Yule Ball, dressed in her almost ethereal periwinkle gown, bushy curls tamed to perfection atop her head and trailing down her neck. And Draco still remembered how, while he was sulking in the corner of the Great Hall and watching her live it up on the dancefloor with Viktor Krum, that stupid ginger fuck had done nearly the same thing the entire evening, only stopping to goad her into another argument which left her crying on the main staircase. Even back then, all he wanted to do was snap the twat's fucking neck and throw his body into the Forbidden Forest. Now Draco was older, wiser and infinitely more creative with the methods he would like use on that pasty fucking─

She sniffed softly and the pain that lanced through his chest was crippling, sending him stumbling and clutching at his thundering heart as if to keep it where it belonged. Hermione looked up at the scuff of his shoes against the stone and he was left stunned, once again, by how quickly her focus shifted from sadness to concern – all for Death Eater who had tormented her for most of her life based on nothing other than her familial heritage.

Gods damn it, he was no better than Weasley.

"Draco! Are you alright?"

"I'm so sorry," he choked, warring emotions rocking through him like boulders. "Fuck, Hermione, I wish I could undo it. I wish I could undo everything."

"What on earth are you talking about?" She looked equally hurt and alarmed, but that didn't stop her from attempting to usher him back towards the ballroom. "Draco, I think we should get you back inside. I know rudimentary healing but there might be a mediwitch more qualified─"

Draco stood firm, not allowing her to move him any further but yanking her forward and crushing her to his chest instead. He held her as tight as he could manage, the diamonds digging into his skin helping to ground him to the present, "When I saw you standing there, upset over Weasley's idiotic, thoughtless comments, it felt like my heart was being torn from my chest. I wanted to kill him for daring to hurt you like that but then I… I realized… I…."

Hermione rubbed slow, soothing circles on his back before sliding her hand to cup the back of his head, "Just breathe, Draco. I'm here, you know you can tell me anything and I'll listen."

How could he admit the truth out loud when only seconds ago was the first time he'd ever really admitted it to himself? He would admit it and then she would finally understand that he was right and she'd leave him. She'd abandon him. She'd run far, far away and allow his demons to return and devour him whole. She'd leave him and his damned, blackened soul and there would be nothing left for him, nothing but _nothing_…

"Your emotions are breaking through, love," she murmured, almost petting his hair. "Try to relax and take a few deep breaths. You'll slip into another panic attack if you keep this up. Just breathe, center yourself, and tell me what's wrong. I know you can do it, Draco, you've done it once today already. Just remember that I love you and I'm here – come back to me, okay? Take a moment and come back."

Using her calm, soothing voice as a beacon in the overwhelming darkness that was already encroaching, Draco grabbed onto her words with both hands and tugged himself forward until he had returned to the moonlit balcony, fingers aching from their grip on the back of her gown and face buried in the curve of her dark shoulder.

"You're going to get tired of this," Draco rasped. "One day, you will be tired of me being such a fucking mess. You are supposed to be my soulmate, my woman – not my fucking caregiver."

"Don't be absurd, Draco – we're partners, we take care of each other and I am fully prepared to accept the good days along with the bad."

"I swear that I will never understand you."

"As long as you love me, you don't have to understand," Hermione pressed a kiss to his temple. "Are you saying that you aren't prepared to deal with my bad days? I still have tremors from the _Cruciatus_. I still have pain from Dolohov's hex. It's rare now, but some days it takes me three pain potions just to get in the shower. You won't be there for me when those days come?"

Draco caught her face in his hands and pressed his forehead to hers as if he could will her to understand how he felt, "Of _course_ I will, Hermione! If I could find a Time-Turner, I would go back and rip every last one of those sadistic fucks apart before they could ever raise their wands at you. If I couldn't stop them, I would stand in front of you. For fuck's sake woman, I lied to them all for you! I lied to my parents and my aunt because I couldn't bear the thought of them killing you! How could you even fucking ask me that? Don't you know by now that I love you with everything I am? Don't you know that I would do anything for you?"

She let out a small, breathy laugh, "So, you _do_ understand me after all."

Much like the time that he'd been learning to play Quidditch on the manicured grounds of the Manor and was hit, square in the chest with a bludger, Draco felt like he'd had the wind knocked from his lungs. He really couldn't pinpoint why this time was different but suddenly, he could see it. He had known since his time in Azkaban that she loved him, but it was only now that he truly _got_ it. _She loved him_. Hermione loved him. She loved him the exact same way that he loved her – unequivocally and unconditionally. She loved him, not the way one typically loves a person or a friend or a pet, but she loved him the way one loved air or water. She loved him the way you loved things that you couldn't live without, that you would die if you lost. She would do anything and be anything he needed, just as he would for her. And if he ever were to die, to leave her alone in the world, she would march right past the veil to drag him back to her.

So, that was what 'soulmates' really meant. How foolish of him to ever think there had been any other way.

"How?" Draco held her face, cataloguing every inch, every freckle, every detail as if truly seeing her for the first time in his life. "How can you love me when I was worse? I… I spiraled because I realized that I was _worse_ than Weasley, Hermione. The things I said to you, called you… the things I did…"

She put her fingers over his mouth, "People change. You've grown up a lot since we were at Hogwarts, Draco. You aren't him anymore."

"Then who I am?" The question was full of fear and almost childish uncertainty. All he knew was how to be an arrogant, spoiled little prick who flouted being a rich Pureblood and looked down on everyone else. If that wasn't Draco Malfoy, then what was?

"I think you are finally who you were always meant to be. You're still _you_, of course, just a little less of an insufferable arsehole."

They both burst out laughing and just like that, the world was right again – how did she always manage to do that to him? One moment his entire life was crumbling to ruins around him and the next, Hermione set everything right and put him back on his feet. In case he forgot to remind himself later, he seriously was the luckiest man in the world to have been blessed with Hermione Granger.

He shook his head a little once they both regained their composure, "You know, I think you may need to revise that higher opinion of me, Granger. You were upset and once again, I made it all about me and my issues." Draco sighed and toyed with the ends of one of her springy curls. "Are you alright? I know Weasley has a knack for getting under your skin so just say the word and I will go right back in there and eviscerate him for you."

"I appreciate the offer, but knowing Ronald I am pretty certain that my hex will straighten him out… once he realizes what he's missing, that is."

He remained silent, tugging on her curl and watching it spring perfectly back into place, over and over, as she watched him with contemplative eyes.

"Now that I have you, I don't have room in my heart for anyone else, Draco," Hermione caught his hand to still the nervous movement. "Ronald was a very close friend for a long time and hearing the way he truly feels about me is hurtful, but it isn't because I'm still harboring some secret wish that we'll end up back together. We were a disaster, like oil and water. He has never appreciated me or the things I did for them back at Hogwarts – I was just always _there_, just another natural part of life. _The sky is blue, water is wet, and Hermione will save us from either failing classes or certain death._ I wasn't even really a person to him, more like a walking textbook. We fell together after the war because it was what everyone expected of us and every moment was a mistake. Ronald never complimented me or thanked me for anything – not once in all the years I've known him. Why would I ever want _that_ when I have someone who writes me five parchment letters comparing me to the moon and the stars? Why would I ever want anyone else when I've fought for years just to get to you?"

It seemed impossible that after everything they'd been through, Hermione could still surprise him. Yet here he was, stunned mute by her openness and seemingly never-ending supply of love for him. Standing there under the luminous night of a pale moon with the most beautiful woman he'd ever known pouring herself out to him, Draco was finally ready for his life to begin. He was sick of the drama and sick of the Ministry and sick of the hypocrisy and sick of everyone in the world who wasn't Hermione and his parents and Blaise. Alright, and maybe Saint Potter was okay, too, sometimes.

He was finally ready to just let it all go.

"Come work with me," Draco brushed her full bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. "I'll beg if I have to, just… come work with me. I need you there to keep me steady when I doubt myself and with how brilliant you are, I can't possibly fail." He looked up, once again nearly knocked breathless by the fact that this goddess of a girl could possibly be meant for him. "Please, Hermione. Name your current employment terms and I'll match – no, I'll beat them. The Ministry is no place for someone of your caliber; you deserve so much more."

She looked thoughtful, "And where would we be working, exactly? This mysterious 'business' that Blaise mentioned before?"

Draco nodded, encouraged by her curiosity, "I'm starting my own company that specializes in Curse Breaking. I'll do the field work, Theo will be the potioneer, and Blaise has signed on as the legal counsel."

"So, what do you need me for if you already have Blaise?"

"Blaise is great at what he does but he's better equipped to work with individual clients than presenting cases in court, so I want him to focus more on the legalities of the salvageable items and magical wills – things of that nature. Considering I want to target the darkest of Dark magic for this business, the curses and hexes that no other companies will touch, I think there will be a substantial amount of time spent in front of the Wizengamot prosecuting and defending people. And if there is anyone in this world that I would trust to speak for me and my clients in front of the Wizengamot, it's you."

Her head cocked to the side as she chewed on her lip in contemplation, "And you say you'll meet whatever employment terms I put forth?"

"Absolutely."

"Even if I wanted to be paid – oh, I don't know – ten million galleons a year?"

"I can afford it."

"And if I only wanted to work one day a week?"

"Any Wizengamot trials will be set according to your schedule."

Hermione smirked and waved her hand at his trousers, "_Evanesco_." Draco's tight undershorts disappeared and he nearly groaned at the feel of his rapidly swelling cock rubbing against the expensive fabric of his trousers. "And if I required frequent shag breaks with the boss in his office?"

He was nearly panting now, fingers spasming against her cheek, "My desk is more than large enough to accommodate that request."

She grabbed the waist of his trousers and tugged, _hard_, so he nearly fell into her and smiled when they stumbled backwards a few steps until her back made contact with the wall. Her heels made up for a large portion of their height differentials so Hermione simply tilted her back a little and her lips were nearly on his – only the smallest of spaces separating them. The tiny little puffs of air from her mouth sent shivers across his skin and he could feel every inch of her molded to his body through their formal clothing. He ground his almost painfully hard cock into her center and she whimpered, followed by a breathless chuckle and wicked glint smoldering in her cinnamon eyes. She attempted to rub her thighs together and Draco nearly collapsed.

"Is this still an employment negotiation?" Draco hissed from between clenched teeth. He slapped one of his palms against the wall to steady himself, the other gripping the dip of her waist so tight he was certain she would have bruises in the morning. The underside of her breast was just beneath his thumb and he was about thirty seconds from tearing her gown to pieces. "Because if you don't state your terms _very quickly_, I'm going to fuck you right here on this balcony without caring who might see us."

"I already quit my job when I told Kingsley to fuck off earlier. I am, as they say, a free agent and you do make quite the compelling employment offer. We can discuss it further later," Hermione flicked the button of his trousers open and slid her hand, tortuously slow, down his overheated flesh to stop just above where wanted her most. "More importantly, back to the fucking on the balcony – there are quite a lot of publications inside, you know. What if a journalist finds us?" She suddenly gripped his length and stars exploded behind his eyes. "They might…" Her hand moved up and down, her grasp just tight enough to tease but not enough to get him anywhere and he was ready to sob. "…take pictures."

"I'll cover you. They can print pictures of my arse for all I fucking care," he swallowed thickly, pushing himself into her hand harder, desperate for _more_. No one, save for Hermione, had ever touched him intimately like this and as if it could be ripped away at any moment, Draco wanted to give her everything. He wanted her to be the only one, wanted her to mark his body as hers in every way and forever wash away the horrors of Azkaban. He was whining now but any remaining dignity or decorum could go fuck itself. Nothing, none of it mattered except for her hands on him. "For fuck's sake, Hermione – you're going to kill me."

She caught his mouth in an almost violent kiss, teeth tugging at his lips and nipping at his tongue until he was nothing more than a shivering mass of sensation. If someone came up and asked his name at this exact moment, he was pretty certain that he wouldn't have an answer. Her free hand snaked up and twisted in his hair, tugging hard just the way she knew he liked and Draco snapped. Thank the Gods they were already outside and he didn't have to make a spectacle of dragging her away from the party.

Snatching her waist, he quickly _Apparated_ them both directly back to his bedroom and wasted no time in undoing the charms that held her hair and clothing in place. When she was free of the magic, Draco tore the back of her gown open with an animalistic grunt, "Off. _Now_."

The beautiful gown was on the floor almost instantly and Hermione kicked her heels off before reaching for him. Draco moved out of reach and gestured towards the large, plush bed with a quick tilt of his head. She complied instantly, pupils blown wide and juncture of her thighs wet with desire and it was enough to give him pause. The fiercest, most intelligent witch to quite possibly ever grace the Wizarding World was spread like a sumptuous feast before him in nothing but white Malfoy diamonds, swollen quim dripping onto his expensive sheets, dusky, pebbled nipples undoubtedly aching for his touch from their diamond cage.

Dress robes fell atop her discarded gown. "You are…" Italian leather shoes were tossed against her heels. "…the single most exquisite thing…" Trousers remained forgotten at the foot of the bedframe. "…I have ever fucking seen…"

Hermione squirmed under his intense gaze and he stalked forward like a predator, one knee on the mattress as he eyed her hungrily from bottom to top. He licked his lip like the most lascivious of beasts and she cried, "Draco, _please_."

All of his fantasies of making love to Hermione had included hours of teasing, of building up the desire and pleasure by touching her, tasting her, until neither of them could stand it anymore and they simply attacked each other, unable to hold back. It was rather shocking to realize that he was already there, his iron-hard cock glistening with precum, bollocks aching with need – all just by looking at her: naked save for diamonds, cunt dripping the most delicious nectar he'd ever tasted, breathing _'Draco, please'_ as if she would die without him inside her.

Well, who was he to deny her?

Pushing her thighs apart – and nearly coming right then and there from the wanton sight alone – Draco settled himself against her core, one arm holding himself up against the mattress so he could see her lovely face, flushed and glazed with lust. He slid his fingers between the swollen lips at the apex of her thighs, both of them gasping harshly at the contact. She gripped his arm, nails biting into his skin, and he visibly shivered. One slender finger, in and out, then two, in and out, had her head thrashing against the sheets. Unwilling to do this unprepared, Draco gently pushed in a third just to stretch her virgin walls, desperately afraid of hurting her when they finally made love. Neither of them had ever done this before and considering he intended to be with her for a very, very long time to come, he wanted to do it right.

He never wanted her to regret her choice.

"I'm ready," Hermione pleaded as she pushed his hand away. "Please, Draco, I'm _ready_."

Call it a soulmate connection or whatever you want, but he heard what she was really saying beneath the desperate, wanton begging. _I can't wait anymore._ _I've been waiting for you for what seems like an eternity_.

He knew because he felt it, too.

"Are you sure?" Draco gripped his cock and lined himself up with her entrance, but he had to hear it. Even if she never said it again, he had to hear it just once. "Hermione, I love you, my sweet, darling girl, but I need you to tell me you're sure. We can't ever go back from this."

"Good, I don't want to," She wrapped her legs around his waist. "Make love to me, Draco. Make me yours."

Fire lanced across the pleasure centers in his brain as he plunged into her – no hesitation, no slow adjusting to the alien sensations – straight to the hilt until his hips were flush with hers. Hermione cried out and buried her face in his pale shoulder. He kissed the top of her head and gave her a few short seconds to breathe before the last vestiges of his control mercifully broke. He braced himself with one arm on the bed, the other winding behind her knee and hitching her leg up near his chest to angle himself deeper. Pulling nearly all the way out, Draco took in the sight of her gasping, chest heaving, dark complexion only interrupted by splashes of white diamonds cross-crossing her skin before snapping his hips against her again with a low growl. In and out, faster and faster he thrust, unable to decide if he preferred the sight of his harsh movement jolting her breasts or her slack mouth and glazed eyes as she moaned and whimpered and garbled unintelligible words.

All. He preferred it all.

"Draco," Hermione groaned, nails digging into his arse to pull him deeper. "Oh Gods, right _there_ Draco. _Nnng_… holy _fuck_…"

"So beautiful…" He panted down at her, thrusting harder in accordance with the biting nails demanding it. "All mine… my soulmate… my wife…"

"_Yes_! Gods, Draco, yes. Harder," she clawed at his back, knowing the slight hint of pain only heightened his arousal. "Harder, love. Please. _Please_."

In any normal frame of mind, Draco would be terrified that he was hurting her but now, with all higher function obliterated from his brain, the only thing that mattered was driving into her hot, tight pussy harder, faster, _more_. Lightening sparked down the notches of his spine and wrapped around his cock like her hand, tightening his bollocks almost the point of excruciating pain.

"_Draco_… _Draco_…_ Draco_…" His name fell from her lips like a chant, a prayer, and he knew that he was lost to her. There was no going back. She was a part of him now and if, someday, they were ever parted, there would be no reason for him to continue. Not without her. Never again without her.

Draco let go of her leg and reached down between them to rub gently against her swollen, needy clit. It only took a few strokes before she was screaming his name, body taut as wave after wave of her orgasm washed through her body. The unexpected feeling of her quim pulsing around his cock sent him reeling, stars exploding behind his eyes and mind-numbing pleasure bursting across his brain as he came deep within her womb. It felt primal and animal and _right_ to be marking her body with his seed, a small part of him – hidden somewhere deep – roaring with pride at the thought of her belly swollen with his child someday.

He looked up at the glistening goddess beneath him who suddenly looked shy, as if he didn't just fuck her into oblivion while she swore like a Malfoy and begged for more.

She bit her lip, fingers dancing across on tight nipple as a brow raised slowly… in challenge?

Draco snarled, attacking her slender neck and full breasts with his mouth until he knew she would wear the marks he left for at least a few days afterwards. It was impossible to imagine how they were ever going to get anything done now that he knew what it felt like to have her. _More, more, more_; the word was on a constant loop in his wanted more of everything – more of her love, her time, her body, her heart. Hermione was everything and Draco suddenly found himself desperate to know how she would look pregnant, how her body would ripen and change with another piece of him growing within her. He would be willing to bet she'd taste even sweeter…

"Mmmm, Draco," Hermione sighed, palming his fast-hardening cock with determination. "_More_."

Yeah, they could think about having children much, much later.

x-x-x

He was utterly exhausted, the source of which was currently clinging to him like a Venomous Tentacula. Draco kissed her forehead and found that falling asleep to the scent of her floral shampoo was much more comforting than he ever imagined.

Just as unconsciousness was about to claim him, Hermione murmured in the darkness, "Draco?"

"Hmmm?"

"How much are you planning to pay Blaise?"

His groggy thoughts turned over sluggishly for a few moments before he remembered, "Twice his current salary, I think. Why?"

She snuggled further into his bare chest, hand draped heavily across his naked hips, "Pay me twice what Blaise makes and I'll come work for you."

"You had a pretty extensive list of demands earlier."

"Mmm… I was just kidding. All I want is to make more than Blaise so I can rub it in his face whenever he's a prat."

He let out a tired chuckle and tightened his grip on her, "Done. Glad to have you on board with us – we can hash out details tomorrow."

"Mmmkay."

They were both on the edge of sleep once more when Hermione poked his ribs, "Ugh… what the hell, Granger? You can't just use me shamelessly for your pleasure all night and then deny me any time to recuperate. _What_?"

She laughed at his ire, kissing his chest, "I just forgot to mention one of my employment requirements, besides the pay."

"Fine, fine. Just tell me so I can go to sleep already."

Her breath was hot against his ear and the sensation sent molten shivers down his spine and straight to his cock, "I still require frequent shag breaks with the boss in his office."

Draco was immediately awake and he pounced on her like the lioness that marked his shoulder, thankful to all the deities that they were still naked, "That can most certainly be arranged."

"Think you can keep up?" She gasped as he pushed into her, his tongue tracing shapes and words across her collarbone as he fucked her with slow, gentle strokes. "I can be… quite… demanding…"

He wrote 'I love you' across her chest and licked 'forever' across the swell of her breast with his tongue. When he looked up at her, he knew she could read the true meaning of his words, "For you, Hermione, I will certainly try."

_I'll try, for you._

_I'll always try for you._

_Even if I forget why I bother to stay alive, as long as I have you, I'll try._

* * *

**Fin.**


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